Changing of the Guard
by KLMeri
Summary: For the ISS Enterprise, a prisoner transfer is business as unusual. Having a bond form between the three most dangerous people on the ship is not. What is a starship captain to do? pre-K/S/M - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title** : Changing of the Guard (1/2)  
 **Author** : klmeri  
 **Fandom** : Star Trek AOS  
 **Pairing** : Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
 **Summary** : For the ISS Enterprise, a prisoner transfer is business as unusual. Having a bond form between the three most dangerous people on the ship is not. What is a starship captain to do?  
 **A/N** : Written for Mirror Universe Round of McSpirk Holiday Fest; based on the prompt from starfleetdicks: _The ISS Enterprise and VSS Intrepid meet to exchange prisoners except McCoy has to tend to a Terran prisoner and Kirk has taken too much interested in the Vulcan escort._  
Compared to all the slick and terrifying Mirror Universe stories out there, this version is the clumsier, slightly dumber cousin. Also, I might have tackled the prompt in an unusual way. I hope that's okay.

* * *

"Captain, sensors indicate the approach of a vessel."

The man in the captain's chair waves back the yeoman holding out a data padd and stylus, turning in his chair to address an officer with his face pressed to a science scope. "Identity, Mr. Amand?"

"Of Vulcan make." Amand clarifies quickly, "It's the _Intrepid_ , sir."

"Precisely on time." The captain orders, "Hail her when in range," adding lightly as if in afterthought, "and shields up."

The two helmsmen exchange a glance. One of them confirms, "Shields in place."

With a slight narrowing of the eyes and faint trace of a smile, the captain settles an elbow on the armrest and props his chin up with his thumb and index finger. Waiting.

Seconds stretch on like hours until the communications officer chimes, "Hailing frequencies open."

All attention focuses on the man at the center of the bridge. He begins without preamble, "This is Captain Christopher Pike of the _ISS Enterprise_. We have been appointed by Terran High Command to engage with you in the transfer of a prisoner to the Vega penal colony." When the main viewscreen remains dark, Pike reiterates, " _Enterprise_ to _Intrepid_ , acknowledge." Finally, with less patience, "Commodore Stonn!"

The viewscreen wavers, forming an image of a smaller, more intricately designed starship bridge. The Vulcan standing at its center has an impassive expression to match his name.

"Captain Pike," Stonn returns the greeting, lifting his hand in the traditional Vulcan ta'al. "We meet again."

Pike dips his head. "Well-met indeed, Commodore. And how do you fare this evening?"

"'Evening' is an irrelevant term in space, but your meaning is understood. I am in optimal health." Stonn's posture shifts slightly sideways. "The same cannot be said of the human in my brig."

Courtesy of his formidable self-control, Pike's reaction remains limited to a pulse in his jaw. "Unless I receive a dead body, I believe I can manage to explain away your prisoner's… ill… health. After all, Commodore, avoiding undue tension between our superiors is a top priority for _both_ of us."

Stonn stares at him silently, no doubt assessing whether or not to acknowledge the truth of that statement or to risk the fallout of continuing to bait another empire's commander. After a moment, he seems to have made his decision. "It is well-known that Christopher Pike's skill in the diplomatic arts is unparalleled," the Vulcan states with the faintest trace of disdain. "Therefore I am certain you will be successful in the endeavor."

"How about a little gratitude?" mutters a scowling, sandy-haired ensign at Navigation.

"Helmsman," Pike says in warning, flicking his gaze from the mouthy subordinate back to the viewer. "Stonn, unfortunately, I have no more time to make small talk with you. Let us commence with the transfer."

Stonn folds his hands behind his back. "The _Enterprise_ must first lower her shields."

Pike's thin-lipped smile is ambiguous. "I hope the precaution hasn't insulted you."

"To take precautions is logical."

Satisfied, Pike orders, "Drop shields."

The Vulcan turns partly away, then, saying something in his native tongue to a nearby crewman. When he faces Pike again, he confirms, "We are transmitting the coordinates to you now. I recommend adjusting your transporter to receive two life-forms."

"Two?" Pike says sharply, sitting forward. "Commodore, _I_ don't recommend attempting any games. My orders do not include a second prisoner."

"An escort," Stonn interjects in an unwavering tone. "Since his trial on Vulcan, the prisoner has attempted escape multiple times and requires constant supervision. Consider my crewman as an added benefit, Captain—and a gift of respect between commanding officers."

Pike sits back again. "Very well, send the guard along—just know that once he boards this ship, we will not dispatch him back to you without exercising our right of interrogation."

"Interrogation is allowable under the terms of the Terran-Vulcan Alliance."

Stonn's easy reply increases the tension on the bridge. Why would the Vulcans be eager to offer one of their comrades to the Terran Empire?

The Commodore continues on, "Sharing discourse with you has been educational, Captain Pike. I would look favorably upon another opportunity to engage in 'small talk'."

"Likewise. _Enterprise_ out." Pike closes the open channel from his chair. Once the main viewscreen resumes its projection of the stars, he heads for the upper deck, veering off toward the turbolift while saying, "Mr. Sanson, relay the prisoner's coordinates to Transporter I."

"Already done, sir."

Pike invites his security chief to precede him into the lift. "And contact Sickbay," he orders. "Tell my new chief medical officer that his first and only chance to prove his worth to the Empire has arrived. Mr. Amand, you have the conn."

Amand steps down from the Science station to stand beside the captain's chair, watching as the lift door closes on the captain.

* * *

Looming over the figure slumped across the transporter pad and ignoring anyone else near him, Christopher Pike snarls, "Where the hell is McCoy?"

"Captain," cautions Giotto, the security chief, "if the Vulcan attacks, I will have to shoot through you to stop him. Please, move aside."

The Vulcan in question does not seem inclined to move, nor does Pike. In fact, the captain notes sourly, though the escort's expression could rival Stonn's for most unreadable, the Vulcan is uncharacteristically talkative. He had introduced himself immediately upon Pike's arrival as "I am S'chn T'gai Spock, formerly a lieutenant-commander in Particle Physics aboard the starship _Intrepid_."

The introduction should have fallen on deaf ears, except that the last part catches Pike's attention. "Locate McCoy," he demands of the tech manning the transporter console. Facing the Vulcan, he wants to know, "Formerly? Why? Have you defected?"

Spock raises both eyebrows, appearing oblivious to one of Giotto's men removing the small phaser rifle attached to his uniform's belt. "Defecting is not my intention. I was relieved of my rank prior to becoming an escort for this prisoner."

"Why would a science officer be demoted to guard duty?"

"I cannot answer that question, Captain."

"Sir, Dr. McCoy is—" interrupts the tech.

"Here!" finishes the dark-haired man striding in from the corridor. He pulls up short when Pike's stare finds him. " _Damn and blast_ —I mean, my apologies, Captain. I was delayed by—"

Pike cuts McCoy off with "Explain later." He points to the prisoner. "This man needs your attention."

The doctor comes forward at a more cautious pace, his attention captured by the Vulcan blinking placidly between two security officers rather than his new patient. "Why isn't that Vulcan in bands? Isn't he dangerous?"

Spock says, "I have been relieved of my weapon."

"I've heard stories," insists the doctor. "Vulcans only have to lay a hand upon a man in order to do him irreparable harm."

Spock's tone cools suddenly. "An unlikely case in this situation. As you can see, I am quite heavily guarded—more so than the prisoner the _Enterprise_ has retrieved."

Pike lays a hand on the agonizer clipped to his uniform. "Enough, both of you. McCoy, the Vulcan isn't the one to concern yourself with. Tend your patient. That's an order."

Though newly christened in the CMO role and younger by several decades than his predecessor, McCoy doesn't act the fool. The man shakes a tricorder out of the medkit slung across his shoulder and goes down on one knee beside the unconscious man. After studying his instrument briefly, McCoy looks around to the tech. "Call to Sickbay for a gurney." He transfers a bland gaze to Pike, and has a tone to match it. "I can heal this man, Captain, but the course of treatment will be more effective if his records are on hand. Who is he?"

Pike presses his mouth flat. "His name is Kirk. James Kirk."

McCoy's eyebrows draw together. "Kirk? Haven't I heard that name before?"

"I should hope so," Pike replies in a clipped tone. "Mr. Kirk is First Officer of the _Enterprise_ —and your superior."

McCoy stiffens before realizing no other crewman has reacted with surprise to this news. He asks slowly, "Then why is he like this?"

"That information is above your clearance." Moving off the pad as two of McCoy's staff, guiding a hover-gurney between them, enter the room, Pike orders Giotto, "Have the Vulcan confined to the brig. No one is to physically come in contact with him. Understood?"

Giotto's "Yes, sir" is all Pike needs to hear. He pauses long enough to watch McCoy and his helpers manhandle Kirk onto the gurney before preceding the group from the room. Locating a wall comm in the corridor, Pike contacts the bridge. "Prepare a subspace transmission to High Command. Tell them Officer Kirk has returned to the _Enterprise_."

"Aye, Captain."

Releasing the comm button, Pike leans against the wall, deep in thought.

Once the transmission is received, there will be some councilmen who will not sleep easy. Sending Kirk on a special assignment to Vulcan had been a foolish venture on their part. What Pike wants, he always gets; it was futile to try and stop the inevitable. Betraying the Empire's agents to the Vulcan Guard had also been the useless tactic of someone believing himself wise, resulting in every spy but Kirk being executed.

Pike pushes away from the wall as a group of officers round the bend of the corridor.

What matters is that Kirk is back where he belongs.

And Pike's plan is once again on course.

* * *

In his personal quarters, Pike showers and shaves, feeling like a man recharged after a prolonged skirmish with an enemy. He settles at his computer desk and accesses his logs. Other than the reports required of him by Starfleet, he hasn't recorded a personal log in months. He closes the program after a few seconds of indecision and pulls up the ship's database.

Not surprising to Pike, there are no profiles of any Vulcans named Spock in the public data. And given the experience of his two decades in Imperial service, he knows his security clearance as a captain will not gain him anything useful. Starfleet Command is too selective in the knowledge they share, even among high-ranking officers.

"Computer," he prompts, "connect to Starfleet Archives, access point zeta-nine-nine."

"Connection ready," the ship's computer says. "Provide identification and authorization code."

"Admiral Alexander Marcus." He supplies the authorization code as well.

"Authorization accepted. Welcome, Admiral Marcus."

Pike smirks. Marcus, brilliant as a tactician but ever an idiot for not changing his password.

He retrieves the DNA upload from Security's processing of their newest addition to the brig and inputs the information into the computer. "Identify based on gene sequence, species Vulcan."

"Working. One match found. Species Vulcan." The computer reads off what has to be Spock's full name.

"Display profile," Pike orders. A moment later, he's leaning towards his screen in disbelief. "Son of Sarek?" he reads aloud.

No, it couldn't be.

But after pulling up the image for Spock's father, Pike's suspicion is confirmed. Stonn has handed over Ambassador Sarek's youngest son. The Vulcan, Sarek, infamous in both empires for daring to take a human wife, is practically untouchable to Terran High Command and Vulcan's High Council.

The woman, it seems, bore Sarek a half-human child. That child is Spock, grown, cast off by his own species, and now residing in the _Enterprise_ 's brig.

Christopher leans back in his chair, unsettled and for once uncertain of his next move.

There is someone aboard who may have answers.

Pike changes into a clean uniform and heads for Sickbay.

* * *

The atmosphere of the med bay is unusually subdued, Pike discovers when he arrives.

Nurse Chapel, running a medical scanner over a pale, sweating man in the main ward, straightens up when she notices him. "Hello, Captain Pike. Shall I fetch Dr. McCoy?"

"In a minute. Take me to Mr. Kirk."

Chapel sets off at a brisk pace across the ward. The patient she leaves behind groans and curls in on himself. None of the other staff glance his way.

But Pike does.

"Poisoned by his own stupidity," the woman remarks, responding to the direction of the captain's attention.

"How so, Nurse?"

"He stole another man's lover." Her mouth curves slowly into a satisfied smile. "Would you like to know who poisoned him?"

Not particularly, but Christopher knows his role to play in this kind of conversation. "Who would that be?"

"The lover." She winks at Pike and turns a corner. "Here you are, sir."

Pike clears his throat. "Thank you, Christine."

"My pleasure." The nurse walks out of the small room.

Pike stands in the entrance, taking in the monitors and equipment, Kirk's bandaged arm and sleeping face.

McCoy appears at his side with a nurse-in-training behind him. He motions to Kirk. "The kid's been fairly responsive to treatment."

The attendant asks McCoy, "Shall I wake him up, sir?"

"Yes," Pike says at the same time McCoy replies, "Let him rest."

Pike crosses his arms over his chest and stares at McCoy.

The doctor purses his mouth and relents. "Proceed, Nurse."

Kirk responds slowly to the repeated attempts to rouse him to consciousness.

"James," Pike calls. At the lack of movement, he raises his voice. "James, open your eyes."

"Jim," murmurs the man on the bed. Then, lifting one eyelid to reveal a bright-blue iris, "Captain Pike?"

The knotted muscles of Pike's shoulders ease somewhat. Christopher turns to McCoy. "Diagnosis?"

"Fractured ribs. Burns on his left arm, likely from a plasma rifle. We can regenerate the skin, though it's up to the patient if he wants to keep the scars. Other than that, a mild concussion and some bruising. Dehydration."

Christopher is more relieved than he anticipated. "He's had worse."

"I know," McCoy drawls. "It's my first time seeing medical history that reads like a primer on warfare."

Pike smiles slightly. "Kirk is one of Starfleet's most promising officers." Drawing in a breath, he tells McCoy in a firmer tone, "Which is why it's imperative to restore him to full health. Understood?"

McCoy quips dryly, "I'm not inclined to jeopardize the life of someone with the authority to take away mine."

"Then Dr. Boyce must have educated you well before his passing."

McCoy adopts a nonplussed attitude that could be labeled insubordination, crossing his arms over his chest in a mirror image of Pike. "Not all doctors are killers, Captain."

"We're all murderers at heart," counters Pike, curious at how much McCoy will push back. "At least some of us are civilized murderers."

"That so?" McCoy says sarcastically. "Then who are the uncivilized ones?"

"The Klingons," chimes in the patient among the group. Both of his eyes are now wide open, taking in Pike and McCoy's exchange.

Were Christopher younger and less hardened, he would have rolled his eyes. As it is, he narrows them in dismay. "James…"

Jim doesn't disappoint. Shifting forward to sit up, thereby causing the attendant to pin him down by the shoulders, Kirk eagerly explains his opinion:

"I learned recently that Vulcans live by a tenet called IDIC—infinite diversity, infinite combinations or something to that effect. Helps them accept all the weirdness they encounter in the galaxy. Based on that premise, the Vulcans have extrapolated that the diversity within a singular universe—like ours—is equivalent to the diversity among universes. Think about it. Different versions of us—" Kirk stabs a thumb at his own chest. "—who at this very moment exist in separate timelines. _Better_ versions of us, potentially. But you know, when I really thought about it, I realized that theory must be bullshit. Why? Because of _them_. The Klingons." The man waves his bandaged arm in the air, emphasizing with vigor, "Do _you_ think an alternate reality could exist where Klingons believe in _peace_? Celebrate _unity_? Hahaha, IMPOSSIBLE!"

An amused-looking McCoy uncrosses his arms.

"James," Pike says again.

Kirk ignores the captain, his laughter jarring the attendant cursing to herself while trying to strap down his injured arm. "I'd sooner come to accept peace and goodwill myself. Klingons. Will. Never. Change." He chortles the words "Death and honor!" and lets out a roar that is supposed to mimic the Klingon battle cry but actually makes a human sound deranged.

Pike turns to McCoy. "What pain medication is he on?"

"Glory for the Klingon Empire!" shouts Kirk.

McCoy raises an eyebrow. "You did say to provide the best care."

"I need my officer functional, not hysterical."

McCoy's eyes glint with humor. "I don't see the difference… sir."

Kirk alternates between groaning and wheezing after each laugh. "Klingons are w-warriors. They may be uncivilized b-but at least t-they f-fight until you k-kill them."

"What's his problem with Klingons?" McCoy asks curiously.

"That he respects them." Pike sighs, having seen and heard enough. "Comm me once Mr. Kirk wakes up from the sedation."

The doctor takes the hint. "Nurse, hand over the hypo on that tray. Captain's got a point. Our patient needs a nice long nap."

"I will never surrender!" roars Kirk as the medical staff advances on him.

Pike suppresses a grin and walks out of the bay with an improved mood.

* * *

A day later, First Officer James Tiberius Kirk is aware, in good spirits, and refreshingly sane. After interrupting Kirk's attempt to charm Chapel who looks positively terrifying while twirling a scalpel between her fingers, Pike sends the nurse on her way and activates the privacy screen around Kirk's biobed.

Settling on the bed's edge, Pike inspects the bandage around Kirk's arm that he had only looked at from a distance the day before.

"You should have seen the other guy," Kirk says.

"I'll take your word for it," replies Pike. Then he pins Kirk with a stern gaze. "If you have time to flirt with the staff and message me six times before breakfast, then I think you have time to do some actual work."

Jim grins at him. "Not according to my doctor. I need to heal."

"I could countermand Dr. McCoy's orders," threatens Pike.

"Go ahead," Jim says, still grinning.

Christopher sighs through his nose. Only Kirk calls him on his bluffs. It's rather annoying. Finally recalling why he stopped by to see the officer, Pike lets the silence stretch between them long enough for Kirk to lose his grin.

Prepared for anything from wheedling to a fight, he says, "Your recommendation—why should I accept it?"

"You don't like it?" The question is somber.

How could Pike possibly feel comfortable about the idea? "You want me to accept a Vulcan into the crew of the Imperial flagship. That's a dangerous request, James, not to mention a reckless one."

"I know," Jim replies.

"Spock is from the House of Surak. The _son_ of Ambassador Sarek. At best, he's a spy."

"I know," Jim says again.

Pike adds bite to his voice. "Then explain."

"I can make him loyal."

For a moment, Pike is almost too stunned to reply. He had taught Kirk better than this—hadn't he?

Kirk raises his uninjured hand to stall a reply. "Hear me out. Giving Spock a rank and position on the _Enterprise_ can only benefit you, sir. Until now, no Vulcan has been willing to enter Starfleet service. They may train with us at the Academy because of our standing alliance, but their distrust is too ingrained from the wars of the past to consider the value we can offer simply by being different."

"I know all of this. What's your point?"

"You could be the first captain in history to command a ship with a non-human crewman aboard. We call that progress. Command might promote you if you can integrate a Vulcan successfully into Starfleet."

"Or they could execute me if, later on, the Vulcan betrays us."

Jim's mouth quirks at one end. "'You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.'"

Christopher resists the urge to clout the man upside his head. "Don't quote Faulkner to me."

"Besides," Kirk goes on to add blithely, ignoring the complaint, "Spock told me that he has learned all he can from a scientific vessel like the _Intrepid_. Now he wants to learn from a warship."

"Which the Vulcans have," Christopher points out. "Their armada is as efficient as ours at eliminating an enemy."

"They don't approach killing the way we do," Jim says matter-of-factly. "Spock is prepared to apply to our council to stay in the Terran Empire if he has to. If you don't take him, another captain will—along with the credit."

"If I do this," Pike warns Kirk, "the responsibility for him will be yours. Are _you_ willing to take on a new horizon, even if it means you could drown halfway there?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

That answer is enough to satisfy Pike, but he doesn't let on. It might not be possible to push for such an unprecedented change. And unlike his foolhardy subordinate, Christopher knows the vote on Spock's instatement—no matter which council or command unit does the voting—will never be unanimous. There are some old dogs who try to undermine the Terran-Vulcan Alliance when every opportunity arises, and those would rather return to the war-front with the Vulcans on the opposite side. This request could cause enough clamor to divide the empire from the lowest gully officer up to the Emperor himself.

…As if Pike gives a damn.

He is far more interested in finding out why Kirk wants Spock on the crew. If it is merely personal infatuation, Spock wouldn't need a military rank. Yet what bemuses Pike more so is having the same enthusiasm come from the Vulcan. Spock has already made his interest in their militia known by asking to review the literature available on entry into Starfleet, which is more than a simple request to pass the time in his cell. The sheer audacity of it sets Pike on his ear, along with every other officer and inmate on Spock's cell block.

The captain rises to his feet, deciding he doesn't need to have every question answered today. Kirk _is_ a recovering patient.

Jim stops him from deactivating the privacy screen by inquiring too innocently, "Which department would Spock be assigned to?"

Christopher raises an eyebrow, but willingly enough indulges the man in his hypothetical scenario. "Science. Isn't that the forte of a Vulcan?"

The pleasure in Kirk's gaze is apparent. "Head of Science."

"Who's the captain here?" Pike demands, well-aware that his tone is anything but chastising.

Kirk simply offers him a sloppy salute and sinks into his pillow with the look of a contented man.

Another battle lost, thinks Pike. He shakes his head, more at himself than anyone else, and retreats in order to preserve the illusion of dignity.

In the end, Kirk is correct in his assessment of Command's ambitions. The desire to have a Vulcan in Starfleet outweighs the general attitude towards their sometimes-enemy-sometimes-ally. Spock is required to swear his loyalty to the Terran Emperor over a ship-wide broadcast that spreads across the empire within hours. By the end of the solar day, the Vulcan High Council counters with a response.

To maintain the treaty of the Alliance, Spock, son of Sarek, House of Surak, is exempted from execution for his treason. However, he is formally exiled from the homeworld of the Vulcan Empire and prohibited from contacting his family except under certain authorized circumstances (of which the Council is extremely elusive at describing).

In the aftermath, Pike walks his ship, listening to the arguments among his crew.

 _We finally took one of them!_ some of the men and women cheer.

 _A Vulcan on the ship is nothing but trouble,_ conclude others. _This could be our downfall._

Curiously, no one asks Pike for his opinion—which is just as well. Christopher honestly could not say what outcome he believes will result from his involvement in the matter. Has he truly helped change the course of their history?

Or ended it?

They can only wait and see.

* * *

The first person bold enough to challenge Pike over his decision is also fearless enough to storm into the captain's quarters without permission.

"Dr. McCoy," Pike berates the man, "how did you get in here?"

"Medical override." McCoy comes close enough to shake a finger at Pike that Christopher can see in detail the ridge along the whitened scar running across the back of the man's hand. "What the hell am I supposed to do with a Vulcan?"

"You'll have to be clearer in your grievance, Doctor," Pike chides, keeping his voice level and cold.

"A Vulcan!" shouts McCoy. "We don't _treat_ Vulcans! We use the agonizer on them then shoot them back into space!"

For a second, amusement overrides temper. "Actually, we don't do that anymore."

McCoy's finger stills, and the man stares.

"The treaty, remember?" Pike prompts.

McCoy draws back, at the same time puffing up. "That damned Alliance. Not that I ever thought there was a point to using a weapon on a race that can't feel, but at least the line was clear in our relationship. Enemy against enemy. Now we're under contract to play nice with the pointy-eared devils."

Pike crosses his arms over his chest. "What are you getting at, McCoy?"

McCoy's mouth forms a thin line. "I can't treat a Vulcan."

"Can't," Pike challenges, "or won't?"

"As in _cannot_ , sir," the doctor clarifies with clear agitation. "Nobody in the 'Fleet can. That's what I'm trying to tell you. There are no classes on Vulcan anatomy, no textbooks on their weird physiology, hell, not even a case study of a corpse. Up 'til _you_ decided you wanted a Vulcan to join this madhouse, no human doctor has had to concern himself with keeping one of those green-blooded bastards alive."

Pike has the childish urge to point out that McCoy does know about a Vulcan's green blood. Instead, he says, "Why do you assume I want you administering health care to the new recruit?"

McCoy's brows come down. "What is this, the dark ages? Spock'll be part of the crew. Even recruits who are too dim-witted to do more than sweep the floors are allowed into Medical if they need a doctor."

Pike raises an eyebrow. "Spock?"

For once, Pike is interested to see, McCoy appears caught off-guard. It takes the doctor a second to continue. " _Mister_ Spock," McCoys amends. "I… visited him in the brig."

"Oh?" Pike questions mildly. "I don't recall giving you leave to engage with a prisoner."

"I was curious and—" McCoy takes a deep breath. "—Jim requested it."

Of course. Kirk. Doesn't every trouble on this ship somehow circle back to James?

Pike considers how to reply. "I understand your concern, Dr. McCoy, but I cannot help you." He overrides the start of another argument by emphasizing, " _If_ you truly desire to act as Mr. Spock's physician while he serves aboard the _Enterprise_ , talk to the First Officer."

McCoy's mouth snaps shut.

"Responsibility for our newest member is his."

After a minute, McCoy sputters, "That bastard."

Pike claps a hand to the doctor's shoulder and steers McCoy toward the cabin door. "Exactly. You'll be the first doctor in Starfleet to degrade yourself by looking after a Vulcan. Although you might consider your circumstances another way: you could also be the first doctor to expand frontier medicine to one of the most secretive species in the galaxy."

"I thought about that," mutters McCoy as he goes. "But that hobgoblin doesn't want me to touch him."

"So find a way to convince him," advises Pike, effectively ending the conversation by pushing McCoy into the corridor and locking the cabin door behind him.

He waits a moment but the door remains closed. No more medical overrides. At last, he thinks, McCoy has gone off to plague someone else.

There's a new problem to consider. Kirk has already introduced McCoy to Spock. Why? And for which man's sake… McCoy's? Spock's? Or his own?

Stay out of it, he cautions himself. Kirk makes his own choices.

If one of his choices leads to a mistake, Kirk will have to own that too.

* * *

Pike sits at a round table in his ready room, turning a glass of brandy around in his hands. He has slept five hours, had a quick meal, and caught up on the unread missives in his inbox, of which the very last one stays on his mind. Normally Christopher isn't one to indulge in substances capable of affecting his self-control while on duty, but the thought of the trouble brewing among the admirals has him ill-at-ease.

Part of the reason for that trouble enters the room.

Pike glances in his guest's direction. "You look ready to fall over. Take a seat," he orders. Then, "How does it feel to be back?"

"The welcome could have been warmer."

"Most of the crew assumed you would never return."

Kirk nods, looking around the room critically. "Not much has changed."

Pike doubts the man is referring to the decor. "Something on your mind, James?"

Kirk meets his gaze, then. "What happened to Boyce?"

Pike doesn't believe in sugarcoating the truth. "Dead," he says. The shadow of grief in his First's eyes would be a weakness to exploit to another man. Pike works hard to ignore it. He continues flatly, as though discussing a matter of small concern, "It could be that Phillip's newest staff doctor wanted a promotion. The _Enterprise_ was heading into a firefight over the Kalar Territory when the death occurred. McCoy was the only one qualified to take over on such short notice."

"Nah," decides Kirk with same nonchalance. "Bones said Phil went into cardiac arrest. Sometimes the end happens that way—with no warning."

Since Pike had had an independent autopsy performed on Boyce's corpse, he is inclined to believe McCoy's explanation as the truth. That, and the hour he kept the doctor in the agonizer booth to make certain of no foul play. Had any trace of doubt of McCoy's involvement persisted, Christopher would have never allowed the man to remain his CMO.

The Surgeon General still has heartburn over that decision. No doubt the old fool had wanted to plant one of his sycophants on Pike's flagship to support his personal agenda. But Christopher has friends in places not many are smart enough, savvy enough, or imaginative enough to discern.

"How does Dr. McCoy feel about his new nickname?" he asks as he lifts his glass to his mouth.

Kirk reaches over and deftly takes the drink from him, swallowing a mouthful of the brandy first before returning it. The act both irritates and comforts Pike with its familiarity.

"He hates it, of course." Jim smirks. "Said I had no right to undermine his authority in front of his subordinates and kicked me out of Sickbay a day early."

Pike hides his smile behind his tumbler. "Mission accomplished, then."

Kirk shrugs, his smirk softening.

"Test him properly before you befriend him," Pike advises.

Kirk rejoins, "Won't you do that for me?"

Yes, he will, but Kirk doesn't need the confirmation. "Anything else?" Christopher asks, preferring to have any other unresolved business between them on the table before tackling a subject neither of them will appreciate.

Jim taps a finger against his chair's arm for a minute, cultivating the pretense he is seriously considering the question. But Pike is already certain that Kirk came to him with an agenda.

"Grant McCoy access to the Bridge," Kirk says after a while.

"Who's asking: you or McCoy?"

"I am."

Pike has an easy answer for that. "No."

Jim sits forward, demanding, "Why not?"

Christopher reminds him, "If you don't want to follow the rules, wait until you own the captain's chair before you break them."

Kirk's gaze lingers on his. "Fair enough."

Pike places his drink aside. "Tell me about Vulcan."

Almost instantly, Kirk's expression shutters. His response is a carefully formal "I'm not certain you have the clearance to debrief me on that mission, Captain."

Pike informs him softly, "No one else is going to."

Kirk's unreadable look eases away, revealing an underlying strain that was not present before he was removed from the _Enterprise_. "We were betrayed?"

Christopher can only nod. He doesn't think he can keep from voicing his opinion on the matter if he speaks aloud.

Kirk looks away, saying nothing. Pike lets the silence settle in, rising from his desk to retrieve a second glass from the built-in bar. He fills it from the brandy decanter, handing it to Kirk.

After drinking until its content are gone, Jim places the tumbler in front of him but keeps both hands around it. He asks, "If Command wanted me out of the way, why risk bringing me back here?"

"The _Farragut_ was scheduled to rendezvous with the _Intrepid._ "

"What happened to them?"

 _I did._ He shrugs. "Ran into trouble on the way, I heard. So you ended up with us instead."

Jim asks more softly, "Why?"

Pike comprehends what Jim is asking. He offers a partial truth. "You're my protégé. I made the call not to leave you behind."

Kirk's head dips forward slightly. When it comes up again, he says with a hint of irony, "I understand."

Pike has to wonder if he truly does. He sets that thought aside. "As a welcome back present, I championed your request. Mr. Spock is now a lieutenant-commander in our 'Fleet—and Science Officer of the _Enterprise_."

Jim's eyes light up with pleasure, followed by mischief. "If Spock is Science Officer, what did you do with Amand?"

"Amand has been reassigned."

Looking more like the man Pike remembers, Kirk cackles. "Losing both titles, Science Officer and Acting First Officer, at the same time? Oh, he must be pissed!"

"When isn't someone pissed off on this ship?" Christopher replies dryly, then sobers. "James, watch your back."

"No problem," says Kirk immediately, waving off his captain's concern. "You know I can handle anyone on this ship."

Pike makes a noncommittal noise and repeats his earlier request. "Then tell me how you handled the Vulcan operation."

This time, Jim complies.

* * *

From his days as a junior officer until he became a captain, Pike's name was spoken with fear. Christopher himself always assumed he would take charge of the Empire some day, that it was a given considering his luck and talent to succeed. For years, he ignored the meaning of mercy and focused only on his personal gain.

Now it's a different world. Though most of his crew still profess to be honored to serve with him, they look at Pike with speculation and doubt; often, disdain. They see a man past his prime. A great man who has become weak.

Pike is a rational man. He agrees with the general consensus, although sometimes he wishes he could travel back in time and change that one event which tied him to this fate. Other times, he believes he is no different than most men. After all, did he not have a father, his father have a father, and his father's father before him? How could it be weak to accept what is natural? Humans are not meant to live forever. They grow old, leaving their legacy behind in their offspring.

He comes to accept that he must have been born with his weakness; he carried it without awareness of its existence like the host of an invisible parasite. When conditions became ripe, the insidious thing, his disease, took over.

He can look in the mirror at times and not recognize himself. Can see that other face in his reflection, with its same expressions and other uncanny similarities.

And he accepts it. Every day, Christopher accepts it.

Let the Empire ostracize him. Penalize him. Shame him. Punish.

In the end, he makes the same choice over and over again. It may not be a wise choice, but it's an honorable one in its own twisted way.

"Captain."

Pike is pulled back to the bridge by the only voice that can reach past his inner turmoil. He glances aside to the man leaning against the railing of the bridge's upper deck.

"What is it, Kirk?"

Jim's look is patient, relaxed even. "The alien ship is escaping. Do you want to return fire?"

"Let them go," Pike decides, heedless of the stir his words cause among the other officers. "There will be another time and place for victory."

Kirk nods once, orders Weapons to stand down, and cancels the Red Alert.

Pike feels old by thinking there has been enough bloodshed for the day. But all he can focus on is a strange thought: the aliens they had been battling must have fathers, or are fathers themselves. Like him.

He stands up, motioning to his empty chair with "Mr. Kirk, you have the conn."

Kirk, his legacy, his true heir, takes the seat with the grace and dignity of a natural leader.

Someday, if Pike's plans come to fruition, Kirk will have his chair permanently.

* * *

"What is Kirk normally like?"

Standing in the CMO's office, Pike has a moment to feel at a loss. "What do you mean, Doctor?"

"The rumors about Vulcans?" McCoy says, moving from a chair to sit on the edge of his desk, facing Pike. "Turns out some of them are true. Vulcans are touch-telepaths."

"What does that have to do with my first officer?"

McCoy's look is shrewd. "I never met Kirk before his stint on Vulcan, so I can't attest to his behavior today. But you know him better than anyone on this ship, Captain. You can tell me if he's different after being among the Vulcans."

"No man goes through what Kirk has and comes out the same," Pike argues. "Are you suggesting he needs counseling?" Wouldn't he have noticed symptoms of PTSD?

"No," McCoy says tightly, "I'm suggesting the Vulcans could have tainted him."

Pike has McCoy's tunic in both fists in an instant. Seeing fear flash through his CMO's eyes, he forces himself to relax his grip. "Taint?" he questions, voice roughened by the effort required to restrain his temper. "How?"

"I wish I knew more regarding the specifics. Spock— _Mister_ Spock—says it's unusual for the mind of a non-Vulcan to withstand their method of interrogation." Again, a hint of fear flashes through McCoy's eyes. "A Vulcan can enter the mind of another being and essentially take what information he needs. It's against the law for them to do that to each other, but the rest of the galaxy appears to be fair game." The doctor wets his bottom lip. "I was told that execution of the victim generally follows in short order, granted out of mercy… if you understand my meaning."

Pike feels strangely cold. "You think they did this to my—to Kirk?"

"I think," McCoy says with surprising gentleness, "even if the procedure was carefully performed, some residual effects are likely. Jim may not be aware of them, and I have no scientific way of examining him for damage. My recommendation is to monitor him for the time being."

Pike needs a moment to separate his personal feelings from his duty as an Imperial officer. The act isn't as easy as it used to be. Eventually he offers agreement. "Kirk will be closely surveilled. Thank you," Pike adds reluctantly, "for telling me."

McCoy says nothing for a moment, then, meeting Pike's eyes squarely, "I know he's your son."

Pike's coldness returns for a vastly different reason. "Have you told anyone?" he asks too softly.

McCoy considers him. "Am I required to?"

"You won't," is all Pike says.

The doctor nods once, sharply. Then, "Does Jim know?"

"I couldn't answer that," Christopher admits neutrally. "James keeps his own counsel."

McCoy's consideration becomes thoughtful. "Well, that might explain why he hasn't tried to kill you and take over the _Enterprise_."

Pike almost chuckles. "I doubt a little thing like patricide would prevent my First from taking what he wants. Perhaps he simply isn't as interested in my position as you think."

"Oh, Jim's interested all right," mutters the doctor, "but it's obvious to any idiot with two eyes and a brain that he's holding himself back."

Pike has never indulged that speculation from others and doesn't intend to do so now. He picks up a stylus from McCoy's desk for a cursory inspection . "James knows I commend self-restraint. Let it go."

Though the man doesn't look convinced, he wisely heeds the warning beneath the words. McCoy accompanies Pike to the door of his office, where Pike hands back the stylus.

"Now you know something special, shall we say, about me, Doctor. Should I concern myself with your intentions?"

McCoy replies, "I don't have any at the moment, Captain—but you'll be the first to know if that changes."

Christopher expects nothing less. "I'll keep that in mind."

Outside the CMO's office, he gives the wall an un-satisfying thunk with the side of his fist.

McCoy knows… as Boyce did.

Somehow, the CMO of Christopher's ship remains poised to be his best ally or his worst enemy. Which, he wonders, will it come down to?

* * *

 **Yes, there will be more. The McSpirk is coming in a roundabout way, I sweeear.**


	2. Part Two

**Warning** : Violence (fighting with weapons)

* * *

In the captain's quarters, the soft chiming of an incoming vid call wakes Christopher Pike up from a light sleep. He is out of bed in an instant, for in his many years of experience, unplanned long distance communications generally precede high priority emergencies.

"Computer, lights fifty percent. Accept call," he says as he strides past the wall partition separating his bedroom from the main cabin. His awareness sharpens when he rounds his desk and sees the person on his computer screen.

If an emergency is imminent, the man doesn't show it. Although to be fair, Pike thinks, Alexander Marcus never looks distressed or harried, even when outmaneuvered or outnumbered by an enemy. Pike has learned a few useful tricks about playing it cool during a crisis from his long-term sponsor.

"Did you receive my message?" Marcus begins without ceremony.

The tactless question scratches Christopher's temper, though he contains his reaction to sounding mildly annoyed. "You know that answer, Admiral, or you wouldn't have woken me up."

"Well?" demands the admiral. "Why haven't you responded?"

Pike takes a seat, his annoyance ratcheting up another notch. "Because I haven't told Kirk yet." Running fingers through his sleep-disheveled hair, he huffs. "Why the hurry?"

Marcus's gaze becomes hooded. "How much does Kirk know?"

Pike stills. "About, specifically?"

"Vulcan," is the flat reply. "Does he know about Vulcan?"

Pike chooses his answer with care. "I believe he does." Knows that Kirk does, since Christopher made a point to tell him about the betrayal. But Marcus wouldn't like that.

Following a brief silence, Marcus leans back, scrutinizing Pike more closely than before. "While it may be fortunate to some that Kirk survived, Command can't afford to admit their incompetence to the Emperor."

"I assumed that was the problem," Pike agrees. "It would explain why they're considering handing him a commendation for valor instead of an execution order."

"And why they're willing to overlook his attachment to that Vulcan," Marcus adds.

"It is what it is," says Pike, unable to soften the sharpness of his tone. "I won't hand over Kirk."

Marcus nods like he knew there could be no other answer. "Tell the brat I said to cool his heels in the meantime. With the Babel Conference coming up, not a soul at Headquarters will look lightly upon shenanigans."

Only Marcus could use such an old-fashioned term and make it sound like a serious threat. But Christopher's temper has eased; he feels more amused than anything. "I think you and I have done enough on James's behalf, don't you?"

"More than enough," replies Marcus with a hint of regret. "Send a formal acceptance of the commendation. If we're lucky, that will be the end of it. And, Captain…" The admiral's tone flattens. "It would not be advisable to have the Vulcan at the conference. Not with Ambassador Sarek attending."

"I'll think about it."

"Which is why I won't waste my breath by ordering you." Marcus's gaze stays intent on Pike for a moment. "Good luck, Christopher," he says finally, and the computer screen goes dark.

Pike props an elbow on the desk and settles his mouth against his knuckles in thought.

Marcus does indeed understand his point of view—and no doubt shares the same suspicions.

If Spock is a spy for the Vulcan Empire, then the Babel Conference is the perfect opportunity for any spy to pass on intel to someone of appropriate rank or intimate connection. And what better contact than an ambassador from the Vulcan High Council, able to move unfettered between the empires and who also happens to be family?

Command may not want Pike to add strain to an already tenuous relationship with the Vulcans, but from Christopher's perspective there may not be another opportunity like this one. As an Imperial officer, he is honor-bound to uncover Spock's motive for joining Starfleet.

But more importantly, Pike fears Kirk may have unwittingly made a move against the empire, a fatal one that could end with both their heads on the chopping block. If his heir has no future, Christopher has no future.

How strange, he muses while absentmindedly clicking off the computer screen, that it would be possible for one person—a child, really—to dictate another person's actions.

And all for the sake of being of his blood.

He moves from the desk back to his bedroom, ordering the ship's computer to dim the lights once again.

* * *

Pike navigates the maze-like hallway of Science in search of the tiny office at its heart. For being the second largest department on the _Enterprise_ , the accommodations are incongruently small and uncomfortable, but Pike has noted that most of the staff do not appear to mind. Compared to other close-quartered groups on the ship, Science rarely reports altercations or incidents of disobedience, either a more cohesive team as a whole or being able to resolve their conflicts quietly. Pike is curious to find out if the atmosphere will flourish or dissolve, given the recent change in leadership.

When he enters the office, the captain is surprised by the immediate greeting of said leader, his new Science Officer standing in parade rest behind the desk. Had someone warned the Vulcan of his impending arrival, or is it true that a Vulcan's hearing is acuter than a human's? Yet another fact Christopher must discover about his recruit.

He forgoes taking a seat by the desk as he would have done in the former science officer's presence and locks his hands behind his back, following the curve of the opposite wall to where built-in shelving is available to display one's commendations and personal effects. The shelves in Mr. Spock's office are bare.

Pike turns back to study the uncluttered desk next and then the emblem of the Terran Empire painted on the wall behind it. Finally, his gaze lights on the Vulcan. "Interesting," he remarks. "One of the basic amenities of a prisoner is a beard inhibitor. Did we forget to include it in your daily kit?"

In contrast to Pike's lightly puzzled tone, Spock's is deceptively neutral. "I chose not to use it," he tells Pike.

"Hm. I thought the Vulcan Empire prohibits their officers from having facial hair."

"That is correct."

"I see," Pike says more softly. "In any event, Mr. Spock, your determination to break with tradition astounds me."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "One can value tradition and at the same time appreciate the value of change, Captain."

Pike strides to the desk, then, and sits down. Spock pauses a moment before he joins Pike in sitting, which coming from any other officer would be a sign of respect. However Christopher has heard that Vulcans as a general rule don't stand on ceremony with each other as Terrans do.

Spock continues to be a conundrum.

Pike picks the conversation back up as if no time has passed, saying, "Your presence aboard the Enterprise is a change we both must adapt to." He crosses one leg over the other before balancing an arm across the top of his knee. "If the change becomes overwhelming, I expect you to tell me."

"Your concern is appreciated."

Pike smiles thinly. "My concern isn't for you, Lieutenant-Commander. I have four hundred other officers on this ship, most of whom are very sensitive about having you here. When there is unrest among my crew, my duty is to resolve it by any means necessary, which to be blunt may entail terminating the contract concerning your integration."

Spock inclines his head ever-so-slightly. "To choose the welfare of the many over the one is logical."

Pike loses his smile. "Even if it means kicking you out of Starfleet?"

"I highly doubt I would be relieved of my commission, Captain. I am told there are certain… incentives to High Command in allowing me to stay." Following the polite but pointed counter-argument, Spock adjusts his posture such that his elbows come to rest on his chair's arms. He steeples his fingers and looks at Pike with the interest of someone anticipating a heated debate.

Pike wavers between being insulted and appalled by his junior officer's arrogance. Under normal circumstances, he would quietly add the man to his blacklist and try to dispose of him shortly thereafter but as this particular individual poses a special case, Pike's hands are tied.

And Spock, the bastard, knows it.

Pike adopts a friendly smile again, taking great pleasure in pursuing the only route open to him. "That brings to mind why I'm here, Mr. Spock. The ship's Chief Medical Officer has made it known he is willing to learn more about your species, medically speaking. Given that Vulcan biology in general is still quite the mystery to us humans, I believe you will agree that you can provide a unique and extremely valuable service to the Terran Empire."

The Vulcan has frozen in his chair.

"Of course," Pike continues on, "as an officer of Starfleet, you are entitled to health care and we do want to provide you the most effective treatment possible should injury or sickness befall you during duty. Therefore it is _logical_ to pursue the medical examinations as both parties will benefit from them." He stands up. "Report to Sickbay at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow. I'll inform McCoy of the good news."

"Sir." Spock peels himself out of his chair when Pike is at the office door, sounding rattled for the first time since their introduction.

Christopher doesn't allow his officer time to voice the protest, hurrying into the hallway the second the door whooshes open. Some of the scientists in the hallway watch his quick-footed escape curiously, and Pike cannot help but wink at them as he goes.

How apt, he decides, his pace slowing as he reaches the deck's main corridor, that the more childish methods for handling a challenging subordinate will be what effectively keeps Mr. Spock in line. Unbeknownst to the Vulcan, Pike has had plenty of practice at it already.

It occurs to him then that it would be natural for James to gravitate to a person with similar strategical thinking, and comes to a halt midway along the corridor.

Of course, it's natural… but if Pike hasn't noticed until now that Spock's personality is a complement to Kirk's, then what else has he missed?

Unsettled, that concern lingers with him for the rest of the day.

* * *

Dr. McCoy has a mixed reaction to the news of Spock becoming his latest research topic, and so Pike expects to hear from the doctor almost immediately after the first scheduled appointment.

It takes two days.

The CMO approaches Pike in the Officer's Mess looking like he hasn't slept during those two days. The man doesn't even stop by the replicators for a cup of coffee which, Pike has picked up from one of Kirk's meandering conversations, is very much a foreboding sign. When the doctor plops down at Pike's table uninvited and glares, Pike is prepared enough to stare back without reacting.

McCoy opens the conversation with "Now imagine I'm Mr. Spock, Captain. All I'm gonna do is sit here and glare at you all day long."

Pike ruthlessly buries an urge to grin. "That rough, was it?"

"By god, he's the most unfriendly bastard in the galaxy! Jim says he was pouting," snarls McCoy, "but I have my doubts."

Oh no, thinks Pike. McCoy is here because he needs a mediator. "Did he not cooperate at all? I'll reprimand him."

"Don't bother," McCoy says, sitting back suddenly and flapping a hand in dismissal of the offer. "I got plenty of readings—not that I can make heads or tails of 'em." The man scratches at his stubbled cheek absently. "After a few more sessions, I might be able to produce a decent paper."

Disaster averted. Relieved, he assures McCoy, "I'll make certain that Mr. Spock is aware he cannot shirk this particular responsibility."

"Oh, Spock agreed to come back."

Pike's eyebrows shoot up. "Then why are you complaining?"

McCoy explains, "I showed him the log from the _Enterprise_ 's encounter with that giant amoeba last year. Boyce never had time to analyze the results properly, and damned if I'm not beginning to understand why." McCoy shakes his head slightly. "Anyway, Spock wants first crack at it."

Pike is at loss of what to say.

McCoy's look turns sly. "You did say find a way to convince him. Well, since your science officer and I each have something we want, we came to what you might call a _compromise_."

"Well done, McCoy," Pike manages, not certain why he is uneasy instead of pleased.

But McCoy seems to take the compliment at face value, showing a hint of a genuine smile. "My pleasure." Then, just like that, the facade of irritation is back. "Captain, I think you failed to mention a few relevant details when you hired me."

Pike is more curious than offended. "Such as?"

McCoy scowls. "There's something strange about the _Enterprise_. One would think being the most decorated warship of the 'Fleet, this crew would spend time focusing on the things we're good at: fighting, conquering, and ensuring the Empire's wealth. Yet as I was combing through Boyce's old logs, it seems like most of them don't even make _sense_. Amoebas in space. Giant green space hands? Spaceships that look like planets!"

Pike nearly pinches the bridge of his nose, not prepared to have this conversation but having known it would occur eventually. "Did you happen to take note of when our strange encounters began?" he asks.

McCoy falls silent.

Pike supplies, "When Commander Kirk came aboard."

McCoy grimaces all of a sudden. "I wasn't going to say that."

"I could tell," remarks Pike dryly. "I won't penalize you for speaking the truth, Doctor."

"Good to know," mutters the man. Then, "So what is it about Kirk that turned this ship into something different than all the rest? Is he haunted?" he muses. "Cursed? After everything I read, I'm less inclined to discount the crazier possibilities."

Pike can't stop himself from pinching his nose at McCoy's guesses and sighing. "Boyce and I spent many an evening trying to figure out the same thing. Phillip's favorite theory was that this ship and her crew were never meant to fight the same old fight as her predecessors." Pike adds with a slight wistfulness, "Maybe we should have been charging into the unknown, clearing the way for others—but because we don't seek out the frontier, the Powers That Be of the universe have decided to bring it to us." He bites back a second sigh. "Phillip always was a superstitious man."

"Well I don't know about superstition, but statistics generally don't lie. Our crew's fatal rate due to unexplained death far outstrips any other Constitution-class starship. If something or someone is bound and determined to come at us, maybe we ought to stop running and start fighting back."

Pike hadn't realized how practical-minded McCoy is until that moment. "I'll consider it, Dr. McCoy."

The CMO nods, then says, "In the meantime, I can do more research. Couldn't hurt to see if we're missing a big clue where the kid is concerned." Then McCoy's tone changes to a drawl as he looks past Pike's shoulder. " _Well now_ , speak of the devil and he shall appear." The man's gaze narrows. "Two devils, actually."

Exactly as described, Jim strides over to their table, Spock close on his heels. He offers Pike and McCoy a sharp grin, "Good morning. What are you two talking about?"

"Why? Were your ears burning?" McCoy rejoins.

Kirk's grin broadens.

"Mr. Kirk, Dr. McCoy, at ease," Pike interjects, feeling like if he doesn't step in a bantering session could start between Kirk and McCoy that will definitely make his own ears catch fire. He adds for good measure, "Mr. Spock."

Spock's eyebrow goes up.

Jim stays focused on McCoy, but he says more affably, "No coffee, Bones?"

McCoy slumps down in his seat then and groans loudly. "Excellent point, Jim. Where the hell is my coffee?"

The tickle in Pike's throat is not a laugh. It simply couldn't be.

Just in case, Christopher pushes his mug of coffee across the table to the doctor, clears his throat, and stands up. "I should be going. Gentlemen, enjoy your breakfast."

"See you on the bridge, sir," Kirk replies, already taking Pike's spot at the table while McCoy grabs the abandoned mug and drains most of it. "Spock, would you mind grabbing another cup for Bones? One for me too."

Spock dips his head in acquiescence and proceeds toward the cafeteria's line of hungry officers next to the replication units.

"No sugar for Jim!" McCoy calls after the Vulcan.

On his way to the exit, Pike pauses to look back when he hears Kirk's bark of laughter eclipse the general murmur of the crowd. Jim, he sees, has his hands around the mug, and McCoy has his hands on the commander's wrists, looking pissed as he tries to thwart his companion's attempt to steal what must be left of Pike's sweetened coffee. Pike looks beyond the pair to catch Spock also watching Kirk and McCoy, seemingly unaware of the blockade he has created in the middle aisle, forcing others to squeeze past him to proceed to their chosen tables.

The feeling of uneasiness returns like a slap to the face, for in that moment Pike recognizes another similarity in the Vulcan officer. Spock, with his hooded eyes and chillingly calm gaze, is tame only in demeanor. Beneath the surface lies a force far deadlier than anyone might guess.

But this isn't one of Kirk's qualities, he realizes. Not Jim, who most often wastes no time disguising his deadlier nature, who in fact wields his temper almost masterfully such that he can make even the oldest enemies think twice before tangling with him.

No, at this moment Spock is like Pike. Hiding something he wants to acknowledge.

Pike's hands curl into fists.

The Vulcan believes Kirk is his.

"Captain. Captain?"

A voice breaks into the pocket of silence that had engulfed Christopher without him realizing it, bringing back the sounds of a noisy open hall.

He moves his gaze with effort away from Spock to the person calling to him. Amand.

"Captain," Amand says again, polite enough not to mention the slow reaction.

"What is it?" Pike questions, his voice containing enough of a razor's edge to make wariness appear in the other man's eyes.

"Would you have a minute to discuss a change in schedule for ship repairs?"

Pike glances across the cafeteria again to find Spock seated with Kirk and McCoy. He nods. "I'm headed to the Bridge. Walk with me, Commander," and leaves the dangerously cozy picture presented by the three men uninterrupted.

* * *

Pike stands in front of his chair, facing the image of Admiral Richard Barnett on the main screen. His shift had started out uneventfully enough, with him patiently listening to a discourse on the finer points of cleaning up the ship's engineering bay from a 'heap of scrap parts' (the Chief Engineer's colorful description) to an engineering marvel the likes of which hasn't been since the _Enterprise_ left Earth's spacedock on its maiden voyage (again, per the same engineer). As always, it had been an onerous task to make Montgomery Scott understand that all Pike desires out of their infrequent conversations is confirmation of every system being checked and double-checked and operating as designed. He is not someone who reads the ship's technical manual in his spare time.

Unfortunately, the welcome interruption turns out to be not as welcome as Christopher hopes.

"Pike," Barnett is saying, "I need you and your crew en route to the Proxima colony in Alpha Centuri."

Pike eases backward to sit in the captain's chair. "The _Enterprise_ is undergoing repairs, Admiral."

"I'm aware of that," Barnett replies.

And no doubt feeling pressured such that the man is inclined to ignore the fact, decides Pike. He asks, "What's going on?"

"A Klingon warship was spotted around Proxima." The admiral's nostrils flare as he elaborates with barely concealed disgust, "Starfleet was belatedly informed of the situation by Proxima's governor."

That poor fool. He won't be governor for much longer.

"We have no starships close by, Captain. The _Enterprise_ is the fastest."

"You'll send for reinforcements?" he questions calmly.

Barnett's gaze sharpens. "Two battle cruisers are on the way, but they won't arrive for another nine hours. You can arrive in five."

"We'll do our best, Admiral."

"See that you do," Barnett warns him. The image on the viewer fades out.

Christopher doesn't need to look around him to take in the general reaction to this unexpected assignment. Though they are used to it, his officers don't like being forced into battle without preparation—barring, of course, one exception. Pike can practically feel the air vibrating with his first officer's excitement.

He turns his head toward the man. "Kirk, see to it that Engineering ceases all repair activity immediately. Either this ship is in warp in the next thirty minutes or Mr. Scott is in the agonizer booth. His choice."

"Aye, Captain," replies Kirk dutifully, revealing his eagerness in the next breath, heedless of the grim expressions around him. "Klingons! This is going to be _amazing._ " As Kirk leaps to the upper deck, one hand barely skimming the railing, he calls to the Vulcan manning the Science station, "Mr. Spock! Let's pay a visit to Engineering."

Pike keeps his gaze forward on the viewscreen and his expression battened down until the lift door closes on the pair. Afterward, his mouth curves, and he allows himself to a moment to indulge in the same kind of eagerness. It feels like forever since he has engaged in a battle that shows off what the _Enterprise_ can do.

"Helmsman," he says when the silence on the bridge becomes noticeable, "plot a course to Proxima."

* * *

After arriving at the colony, the _Enterprise_ takes a Klingon vessel unawares, and a brief skirmish ensues. Pike makes a reassessment of the operation handed down by Command following their victory and personally leads the way to the transporter room. There he confirms the coordinates will release the team in the center courtyard of the colony by the governor's house and then waits patiently while each member arms himself and ascends the transporter pad. There is nothing he can say publically about the Vulcan standing on Kirk's right, but the person on Kirk's left is a different story.

"Name and rank," he demands of the officer.

"Pavel Chekov, sir," responds the young man who looks like he just left the womb. He puffs up with pride as he states, "Ensign."

Pike glances at Kirk, nonplussed, before asking, "Ensign, how many ground teams have you been assigned to?"

Pavel's gaze widens but he answers very seriously, "None, Captain."

Kirk cuts in right as Pike is about to order the ensign to get the hell off the transporter pad, "Chekov needs the experience."

Damn. This is not the time or place for them to be arguing about landing party personnel. Why does Kirk never double-check the roster with him, and why hasn't he learned to look for himself instead of trusting his First to have common sense?

The ensign comments innocently, "I'm ze top marksman of my class, Captain. I am wery good." He pats the phaser clipped to his belt.

Kirk looks amused, saying oddly, "Chekov."

Chekov flushes. "I'm ze top marksman _now._ Ze other one… had an accident."

Oh wonderful. Reading the unspoken remainder of that story in Chekov's gleaming eyes, Pike can imagine very well how the boy's competitor had an 'accident'. He swallows a sigh. Only Kirk would handpick a baby-faced murderer to take on a sensitive operation.

Pike's gaze is drawn back to the silent Vulcan. Spock blinks placidly at him.

Kirk shifts on his feet as though he expects the argument from Pike to escalate, but Pike merely turns away after a few tense seconds. At the transporter console, he activates the comm unit.

"Pike to Sickbay."

"McCoy here," answers his CMO.

"I need you in Transporter I on the double, Doctor."

"What's the emergency, Captain?"

Pike bares his teeth as if smiling. "Effective immediately, you are assigned to the Proxima landing party." He allows the doctor a brief opportunity to screech "What!" through the speaker, before cutting through the rest of the protest. "You have five minutes." He ends the call.

Pike faces Kirk again and inspects the man's shocked expression. "Is there a problem, James?" he asks in a mild tone.

"Boyce never left the ship… sir," Kirk tacks on politely.

"McCoy isn't Boyce."

Jim sobers and begins to step down from the platform, apparently of the opinion they need to sort this matter out in a private conversation. Pike raises a stalling hand; but before he can explain himself, the Vulcan breaks his silence.

"Captain, given that Dr. McCoy is a senior officer, by corporal law the away team will be duty-bound to protect him. Furthermore, the Doctor is not trained in combat, which increases the probability of distraction, thereby lowering the likelihood of a successful mission."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Mr. Spock," drawls McCoy as he passes through the doorway. He looks more furious than winded, though the man must have run from the medical bay in order to make it by the deadline. McCoy switches his glare from the Vulcan to his captain.

Pike responds by crossing his arms over his chest. "Thank you for joining us, Dr. McCoy."

"I bet you are thankful," McCoy retorts sarcastically, his right hand shifting at his side to rest on top of his medkit like there might be a weapon inside it he wants to use on someone, namely Pike. "As much as I hate to say this, I agree with the hobgoblin. What the _hell_ is your reason for making me do this?"

"Aside from my authority as captain of this ship to have my orders followed without question," chides Pike, "I think you all have overlooked one critical point of the operation."

Chekov perks up while Kirk narrows his eyes. Spock has returned to his impassive monitoring of the situation.

"Mr. Spock, you said the Bird-of-Prey wasn't manned by more than a skeleton crew, which means by destroying it we stranded the Klingons who weren't on that ship on the planet below. Being who and what they are, they must be primed for a fight—" Pike tips his head at Jim. "—and Mr. Kirk is leading this mission. There _will_ be causalities." His voice hardens. "One of them better not be my first officer. McCoy will see to that."

He uncrosses his arms and pins Kirk with his gaze. "Try to capture one of the Klingons, preferably the leader. I want to know why these bastards entered our territory."

Jim offers a nod and a firm "Yes, sir," returning to his place on the transporter pad.

When all heads turn in McCoy's direction, the doctor growls lowly, "This is above my pay grade," but reluctantly takes the empty spot beside Chekov.

Pike doesn't miss the way Jim tenses when he glances at his newest team member. As Christopher suspected would be the case, Jim is not comfortable having McCoy on the mission. Why? It cannot be a matter of trust because, true to form, Kirk ignored Pike's cautionary advice and formed a friendship with the doctor. Pike's spies have reported that the pair is seen frequently around the ship together when neither is on duty, often in the company of the Vulcan as well.

Pike's gaze is drawn to Spock when, for a split second, the Vulcan moves his head to face forward with a blank expression. It seems Spock too had been scrutinizing Kirk.

For a brief moment, Pike almost regrets sending McCoy along. Is possible that Spock will use this opportunity to remove a potential rival?

Pike tucks away the suspicion. It is not his prerogative to protect Dr. McCoy unless danger to McCoy in some way jeopardizes Kirk. And that part of the mystery Pike has yet to confirm.

He waves the group on, to which Kirk gladly takes over command, calling to the tech, "Energize."

The men are gone in a flash. Pike exits the room alone.

* * *

Calling up the chronometer from his chair's control panel, Pike frowns and hits the comm button next to his hand. "Bridge to Transporter I."

"Transporter I here, Captain."

"Did Kirk make contact yet?"

"He just called in the hourly report but I lost his signal part way through. I thought I adjusted for the interference… but it's strange, sir. The interference seems to be on our side. A malfunction, maybe. I'm not sure. Diagnostics come up clean."

"I'll be there shortly. Pike out." Pike re-opens the line. "Bridge to Engineering." He repeats, "Bridge to Engineering, acknowledge."

"Engineering. Scott here."

Pike draws a breath. "Mr. Scott, there's a malfunction with the transporter signal. I need you in the—"

"Capt'n," the Chief Engineer interrupts, "somehow we've blown the conduit capacitor for the warp core but damned if the replacement part hasn't gone missing!"

Pike loses his patience. "Mr. Scott, that will have to wait. We can't get a read on Kirk. If the team on Proxima needs a beam-out on short notice—"

"With all due respect, sir," Scott's voice increases in volume, the man sounding far more frazzled than his captain, "the thing that _moderates_ the power fluctuations _cannae_ wait for repair unless you want this ship's _warp core_ to _overheat_ , take out this ship and _everybody on it!_ "

Pike's heart does a funny jig in his chest. "What?"

Scott rushes on, "But we've lost the— _damn it, ye numpty, get yer head on straight, a core capacitor cannae fit in that wee box!_ —replacement— _LADDIES, hell mend ye, I got our capt'n on the line!_ —every spare hand's doun here, sir, lookin' for it—" A flurry of curses make Scott's next statement unintelligible.

Pike wants to demand why the situation wasn't reported to him immediately but Scott comes back clear through the speaker again as if reading his captain's mind: "The capacitor overload just happened. As long as we stay in orbit, I estimate we got three hours before the core fully overheats and trips the ship's evacuation protocol. But we will start to lose some of our other systems doun here 'fore that."

"Sanson," Pike calls to his communications officer, "inform the second and third teams in Auxiliary Control they're to assist the search in Engineering. Mr. Scott, I want an update every twenty minutes until that capacitor is mended."

"Aye, Capt'n." Scott ends the call.

Pike abandons his chair and starts to pace the lower bridge deck before he realizes he'll be utterly useless where he is now. "I'll be in Transporter I," he announces as he ascends the stairs and strides to the turbolift.

The transporter tech looks both relieved and scared to see Pike walk in.

"Report, Lieutenant," the captain orders.

"No luck yet, sir. The computer insists nothing is wrong."

Pike presses his mouth into a thin line and approaches the console. "What can I do to help?"

"Captain?" the tech says, clearly surprised.

"Tell me what to do," Pike insists. Otherwise, he will go mad with waiting. If they can bring the communicator signal online again, at least he can hear from Kirk and relieve one of his worries.

"There's a control box in the closet over there." The tech points to a door beside the transporter platform.

"Closet?" repeats Pike, confused.

"Compartment storage," the tech clarifies, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, we call it the closet."

Pike heads for the door. "What's in the control box?"

"One of the manual switches could be inverted. If you see a red light in the box, read out the label above it. I can restart the switch from here."

"Got it." He steps into the room as the door peels back and the lights automatically come on. Now he recalls what's in here other than a computer system supporting the transporter. One wall of the long, narrow room houses a few all-purpose space suits as well as a cabinet of handheld scientific equipment and basic survival gear.

Pike moves to the far end of the wall where the cooling fans are humming. There he finds the control box and carefully removes its outer panel. A minute later, Pike sighs out his frustration, staring at the various switches in the box without any true understanding of what he's looking at. The tech said something about red lights. There are no red lights.

"Lieutenant," he starts, "I don't see any—"

A shout of alarm from the outer room breaks through Pike's speech. He whirls around, sprinting for the open doorway, only to bring himself up short as the tech hits the ground with a thump just beyond the threshold; the man's head and upper torso are visible but the rest of him remains hidden by the wall. The tech's mouth gapes open as if caught in mid-scream. It's his eyes though that stare ahead at Pike without seeing which announce that he is dead. The pool of blood spreading beneath one shoulder is only further evidence of what has happened.

Instinct chokes Pike into silence and has him backing up into the narrow space between the storage cabinet and the row of hanging suits. The person on the other side of the doorway is equally cautious, for his shadow is like an ink stain against the white flooring, motionless for what seems like minutes but that in reality must only be seconds. Then the boots appear in Pike's peripheral vision, followed by the rest of the man. He sports a Security insignia on his red tunic and a lieutenant's rankings on his collar but his face remains unknown to Pike. In his hand is a dagger.

There is nowhere to escape but through that one exit.

Pike waits until the man moves farther inside the room before he reveals his hiding spot. "Looking for someone, Lieutenant?"

The man coils with tension like a snake as he pivots to face Pike. Then all at once he rushes forward, not crying out, but his intent quite clear nonetheless. Pike's only thought is that he wishes he had a weapon in his hand. Without one, he will either have to take the dagger being turned upon him or die fighting.

He dodges the first slash of the dagger, lashing out with his boot for a leg to unbalance his attacker; but impersonator or not, the officer has had defense training in the past and quickly turns aside to evade him. The second slash cuts across Pike's arm when he blocks a strike at his chest. In return, Pike lands a punch squarely in the man's side where the kidney should be. The red shirt stumbles backward, which is his undoing because Pike knocks straight into the man with his entire body and sends both of them crashing to the floor. As Pike had hoped, the man loses his grip on his weapon. The dagger flies away from them.

They fight dirty: kicking, punching any part of the exposed body, pressing limbs against the floor to try and snap them. Pike manages to free himself briefly to go for the dagger, but he's flipped onto his back the moment his fingers skim the handle, the dagger sliding under him. The man slams his fist into Pike's mouth and wraps his strong hands around the captain's throat.

Pike hears his own breath rasping in his ears. He tries to wedge a knee in between their bodies but his assailant bears down with his full weight, and so Pike has to switch to pushing him away by the shoulders. Black spots begin to dance at the corners of his vision.

" _Traitor,_ " he spits between his teeth, and has no choice but to take a risk. Releasing one of the man's shoulders, he arches his back with a guttural cry, twisting his arm underneath him to seek out the dagger. His fingers locate the handle after what seems like eternity. The handle's grooves feel familiar—Starfleet design.

Pike doesn't think before he lashes out with the weapon, striking upward and angled at the pale skin between the uniform collar and the man's left ear. The hands around Pike's throat lose their grip when the blade finds its mark. The man rears back, clapping his hands around the part of the dagger now sticking out of his throat. He makes a desperate gurgle and like a grotesquely posed work of art seems to hang suspended in front of Pike before collapsing to the side. The man continues gasping, the sound like air bubbles popping, until he suddenly goes still.

Pike lies on the floor for a moment, blinking to clear his vision and wipe a hand across his chin to remove the warm droplets of blood on his skin. Then he sits up into a crouch, studying the slack features of his attacker. Eventually, he gets up and drags the dead man by the boots through the doorway into the transporter room.

A pair of crewmen chatting in the outer corridor freeze when Pike steps through. He stares at them a long while before deciding they are simply shocked to see him looking like he just walked out of a nasty bar fight.

"Ensign," he calls coolly to one of the men, "contact Security."

The man unfreezes and scrambles for the wall comm on the other side of the hallway, bleating back, "Yes, Captain!"

The lighting of the main corridor doubles in brightness without warning, and Pike almost staggers on his feet. He has to squint against it, shielding his eyes. But his brain isn't interested in the origins of the light; it keeps reminding him that he hadn't recognized his attacker. It insists despite that that the man has to be one of his crew—as the assassins always, heartbreakingly, seem to be. Finally the brightness subsides and Pike comes back to his senses, nearly flinching to discover the other officer standing very close to him.

She asks, "Sir, are you all right?"

Pike tucks away feelings of anger and grief, even regret, and responds instead to the ensign by the comm unit proclaiming loudly that Mr. Giotto is on his way. "Let no one but Mr. Giotto into this room. Understood?"

The pair nod obediently, watching him with nervous expressions as he moves down the corridor on his own.

The turbolift takes Pike down to Engineering, where he finds his chief engineer yelling out orders while a sea of men perform some kind of convoluted dance only they can comprehend. When Scott finally notices his arrival, he says, "Capt'n, perfect timing! We found the blessed part stuck behind the—och, your face. What happened to you?"

Pike gives the man a small smile. "Take a guess."

The man looks him over. "I'd say a bare-fisted fight with a female Gorn but the last Gorn we had aboard was years ago and he was male and had a keen admiration for poetry." Scott sobers suddenly. "Kirk's not going to like this."

The captain grimaces, then. "I'll clean up."

"I suggest a trip to Sickbay first. Maybe if your face doesn't look so busted up, he won't throw the whole lot of Security out the airlock."

Pike starts to laugh and winces at the pain that causes.

Scott shuffles closer, seeming mindful of the others around them, and lowers his voice. "The transporter _and_ the capacitor? A coincidence?"

Pike keeps silent, which prompts Scott to shake his head in response.

"Figured that was the way of it," mutters the engineer. "Crazy fools, whoever they are."

"What do you mean?" Pike asks sharply.

"Well," Scott says, "if they're willing to screw with a part of the ship that could kill us all just to have a chance at killing you, what other lengths will they go to?"

Pike doesn't want to think about it. Not yet.

It does occur to him later as a nurse in Sickbay is sealing the slice across his arm that the timing of the attempt also corresponds to Kirk's absence. He keeps his own counsel though and simply thanks the woman for doing her job once he is satisfied he will appear healed at first glance, then returns to his quarters to shower and don a fresh uniform.

The landing party returns to the ship twelve hours later to a spotless transporter room, dirty, bleeding, but all alive with a grinning Kirk and inscrutable Spock sporting an unconscious Klingon between them. The toes of the Klingon's boot drag across the platform as Kirk and Spock hand him down to two waiting security officers.

"Welcome back, gentlemen," Pike says, meaning it.

McCoy stomps down the platform as he jerks agitatedly at one shirt sleeve torn off at the elbow like he cannot believe it does not cover his forearm, declaring as he goes, "Never, _ever_ again!"

Kirk's eyes cease at the corners in amusement while watching McCoy but the humor is replaced by bemusement when he looks from Pike to Giotto and back again.

"Good work," Pike inserts before Kirk can ask his first question. "The team will debrief tomorrow. Until then, everyone should get some rest."

He exits the room after McCoy, his security chief still stuck to him like glue. "The Klingon, Mr. Giotto," Pike reminds the persistent man once the door is shut behind them.

"Can wait," finishes Giotto with polite severity. "Would you like me to escort you to your quarters now, Captain?"

Pike knows enough of the Klingon language to make a quartermaster blush. Such a shame, Giotto remarks as they start walking again, that the only Klingon on board is not conscious to hear it.

Because that thought makes him chuckle, Pike forgives Giotto for his sins. In the back of his mind, however, he is counting down the hours until what transpired becomes known. That is when the real headache will truly begin.

* * *

Gamma shift is underway when the axe falls. The man who bursts into the senior officers' lounge stares at his captain like he has never seen Pike before.

"Tell me what happened," Kirk demands.

Pike puts the brandy he had been nursing aside and folds his hands on the bar's countertop. "What did the Klingon say?"

"He didn't make it to the interrogation room." Jim crosses the lounge with a business-like stride but stops just short of Pike, the look on his face forcing Pike to remember what it is like to feel nervous. "Killed his escorts then killed himself."

Pike swallows. "Damn."

"It doesn't matter," Jim tells him flatly. "Spock took the information that we needed before we beamed up. What _happened?_ "

Pike wishes he could stop what's coming. "Then what was the point of bringing the Klingon aboard?"

"You said you wanted one." Kirk sets a fist against the bar suddenly and leans toward him, asking for the third time and far more menacing than before, "Captain, what happened?"

Christopher knows there are times to be flippant with Kirk and times, like now, to be straightforward. "Someone attempted to kill me. He failed."

Kirk's jaw works for a second. "Who?"

Pike taps a fingertip against the counter. "He was dressed as one of Giotto's men."

"Who?" Kirk repeats too softly, visibly making an effort to control the need to lash out.

"But we identified him as a lab assistant from Science," Pike concludes.

Kirk's silent fury is as frightening as it is gratifying—until the question comes that Pike has been dreading all along: "Where was your security?"

Pike answers truthfully. "I didn't have any."

Jim had known that already; Pike can see it now, in the livid anger reddening Kirk's face. He braces himself.

"I _told_ you to keep a couple of my men with you when I am not around."

"Kirk…"

" _I told you,_ " emphasizes Jim. "We _agreed_ , sir. I go on missions if and only if you take the protection!"

As Jim's voice rises toward the end, Pike disguises a flinch with a grimace. "Kirk, remember who you're talking to."

Jim says nothing for a moment, seething through the pause of silence. Then, "I'm not out of line."

"Aren't you?" Christopher counters sharply. "I'm the captain. _I_ decide what protection I need and when I need it."

"I'm not out of line," Kirk repeats. "You made me a promise."

Ah hell, the boy is an expert at applying the knife where it will hurt most. Pike knows all too well what it feels like to have promises broken by someone he trusted.

When Pike does not offer a counter-argument, Jim moves back from him one step at a time, rage receding from his face only to be replaced by betrayal. Christopher catches the man's arm before he can turn fully away.

Christopher says, shame roughening his voice, "I made a mistake."

Kirk stills.

"I made a mistake," Pike admits again, softer, as Jim meets his eyes.

"Okay," Jim replies after a long while.

Christopher huffs, almost exasperated by the easy forgiveness. "Would you believe me if I said I won't do it again?"

Amusement flickers through Kirk's eyes. "No."

Pike chokes before asking seriously, "Then what do you want to do, James?"

"I'll think about it." Jim threatens him with a hint of a smile, "I might assign you a personal bodyguard."

He closes his eyes. Since he kicked the first pebble, he can't complain—too much—about the avalanche that comes afterward.

"You're going to hate it," Jim goes on, sounding calmer now, "but what's a first officer supposed to do when his captain won't stay out of trouble?"

Pike pushes the man away. "Get out of here," he growls.

Kirk gives him a mock bow before walking toward the door. But the man pauses there as the door opens, returning his gaze to his captain. "I meant it about the guard."

Pike knows that. "Talk to Giotto. I'm sure he has a recommendation." Maybe that will get Giotto off his ass too.

After a moment of consideration, Kirks nods his agreement. When he vanishes into the hall, Pike retrieves his brandy and downs all of it in one fiery go.

He wishes he believed that Kirk will be satisfied with the guard assignment but the truth of the matter is that whoever is behind the attempt on his life is now on borrowed time. Kirk never gives up a kill.

That is why Pike, being a man of the same mold, both understands his son and fears for him.

* * *

 **More to come. Your patience is appreciated! I am already into the final chapter and hope to have this story wrapped up soon.**


	3. Part Three

Kirk prowls the ship in a manner that makes even the most unlikely crewmen to be responsible for an assassination exercise caution in going about their day-to-day routines. Pike thinks about calling his first officer off the hunt, allowing for a moment to fantasize that he is actually capable of convincing Kirk the danger is past; but they both would be well-aware that any such assumption is untrue. An attempt to take out the highest-ranking commander on the ship is merely a precursor to a second one—then a third and so on, until at last the orchestrator who wants that person dead is successful. So Christopher turns a blind eye to Kirk's prowling, to the rumors of midnight interrogations and the whispers that Kirk won't quit until he has exacted revenge on someone.

As careful as the crew is around the First Officer, they are equally, if not more so, careful in Pike's presence. He discovers one day that he cannot have a simple conversation with the ship's chef about arranging meals for soon-to-arrive guests without the man fleeing in the opposite direction the instant Kirk turns up in the galley.

"Where's Sulu?" demands Kirk, oblivious to the scattering of the kitchen staff.

Christopher swallows a sigh of exasperation and feels like he is about to repeat himself for the umpteenth time. "I don't need a bodyguard every second of every day, Mr. Kirk."

Jim looks like he will gladly argue the case, but before the pissing contest can get underway, Pike ends it. "Mr. Sulu had to answer a call of nature, and since I'd prefer not to have him piss his pants while on duty, I allowed him a bathroom break." How more reasonable could that explanation sound? "I'm certain he will return at any minute."

Kirk looks around the empty kitchen with a narrowed gaze before inspecting Pike. "You have your dagger?"

"Yes."

"It is honed?"

"Would you like me to test it on you?" Pike snaps.

Kirk relaxes. "Fine. I'll let it go. This time." The man turns away.

"You realize I don't need _two_ bodyguards," Pike growls to the commander's back. "Either allow your man to do his job, or take the position yourself."

Kirk glances back, eyes alight, teeth bared. "Should I?"

Pike's stomach feels funny. "Never mind." How does Kirk know every single time he's bluffing?

Kirk carelessly salutes the air and leaves the way he came in.

Pike takes the opportunity to sigh aloud this time, calling to the storage room at the far end of the galley, "You can come out now, Mr. Bastion."

The chef pokes his head into galley, looking nervous. "Captain? I, ah, was double-checking our ingredients."

"Of course you were," Pike says mildly. When the man simply stares back, he inquires, "Do we have everything we need?"

The chef blinks owlishly from his hiding spot. "No, sir, not everything."

"Then submit a requisition," Pike smiles sharply, "and I'll approve it."

The chef flushes, thanks him, and retreats again.

* * *

Later, when the captain crosses paths with his CMO, he keeps going. McCoy is the one to change direction and fall into step with him.

"Is something on your mind, Doctor?" Pike asks the man, stopping in the corridor after this happens.

McCoy eyes him. "I wanted to see if something was on your mind, Captain."

"Nothing that needs particular care at the moment," answers Pike, now wary.

The doctor harrumphs. "Then I guess I don't have anything to share."

Pike stares.

McCoy purses his mouth. "This tactic works better with Jim."

The captain rubs the bridge of his nose. "I have no desire to know how you handle my first officer."

There's a gleam to McCoy's eyes. "Speaking of handling, do you want an update on how I've handled Mr. Spock?"

Pike starts to say _yes_ , only to realize from the look in the other man's eyes, McCoy is essentially setting a trap. "No," he decides firmly. "Unless there is a medical reason that requires me as the captain to know, I don't need the details, Dr. McCoy."

"Shucks," says the CMO with clear disappointment. "This chat could have been entertaining."

Not for both of them, doubts Pike. "Don't you have a med bay to look after?"

"Actually, I'm on break. Jim, Spock, and I are meeting up in the rec room." Again, McCoy's look dares Pike to ask.

Pike takes the easy way out. He walks away.

"One of these days you'll wish you had given in to your curiosity, Captain!" McCoy calls after him, shocking a nearby ensign and causing another one to swallow a snort.

Promoting McCoy was clearly a mistake. Too bad no one had the foresight to tell that to Pike while he was jilting the Surgeon General by signing off on the young doctor's commission.

Strange, he thinks with a bemused shake of his head, that on some innate level he likes the man's personality. Thankfully, with age comes wisdom. He never plans to tell anyone that.

* * *

The first inkling of something about to go wrong is a virulent case of food poisoning that strikes down several alpha shift officers without warning. Unfortunately, the security officer Kirk appointed as Pike's bodyguard, Lt. Hikaru Sulu, is one of the victims. Pike takes one look at the dark-haired man vomiting his guts out on the doorstep of the captain's quarters and remands him to Sickbay.

In a far more somber spirit than the day prior, McCoy pinpoints the cause of the illness as a common microbe found in spoiled food. Because there are over a dozen ill people awaiting treatment, he informs Pike he has already lobbed over Medical's results to Science to analyze meal patterns and identify potential sources. Since the spoiled food couldn't have come from the replicator, that makes the culprit more difficult to determine.

Pike leaves McCoy and his experts to the task of dealing with the sick and asks Kirk to follow up on the investigation every hour and report to him once there is news. But by the time Pike's shift on the bridge ends for the day, Kirk still hasn't reported in, and so the chronic unease he feels does not dissipate.

In the Ready Room, the captain asks the ship's computer to locate Jim. The computer supplies the information readily: the first officer is more than ten decks below in the Engine Control Room by the portside Jeffries Tube.

 _What the hell is Kirk doing in Engineering?_ wonders Pike.

Sanson's voice comes over the comm system, breaking into his thoughts. "Captain, we've received a report of unauthorized access to Auxiliary."

Normally unmanned, _no one_ should access that control room without good reason. Pike orders Sanson, "Identify the intruder."

"Impossible, sir. Looks like someone blew out the security panel after the alert reached us."

Pike presses his hand to an inconspicuous wall panel by the Ready Room exit. After authenticating his bio-signature, a panel pops out and he flips it up, retrieving a fully charged phaser. "Alert Kirk to the situation," he says as he passes through the bridge to the lift.

"Yes, sir," Sanson responds, one hand pressed to his earpiece while his other hand flies across his console.

Two security officers standing guard outside Auxiliary Control salute Pike when he arrives. "Report," he orders the pair.

"The intruder was still here when we arrived, Captain," one of them says. "He resisted arrest and got away. Mr. Giotto and Mr. Henderson went after him. " They step back from the doorway. "The door's sensor mechanism was tampered with and is malfunctioning. We're on orders to make sure nobody enters the control room until repairs have been made."

Pike tucks his phaser into the back of his pants. "Which direction did he run?"

"That way."

Pike heads in the indicated direction without a second's thought. As he rounds the bend of the corridor, he keeps his ears open for sounds of fighting. He does not look back.

At last, Pike comes to the sealed doorway leading to the rarely used storeroom of the lounge in the recreational section of the ship. _A dead end_ , he thinks, his hackles raised. Why would any officer familiar with this deck's layout come this way? A smart man wouldn't.

Hairs rise on the back of Pike's neck.

He spins around. Blocking the other end of the corridor are six officers with hand weapons aimed his way. For a brief second, Pike acknowledges their courage. Then he issues a clear warning, "Think carefully about your next move, gentlemen."

"We should be saying that to you," replies the man who makes his way to the front of the group. It's Amand.

"I should have known," Pike says softly. "Did you tell your comrades what happened to the last man you sent after me, Mr. Amand? I cut his throat."

Two of the six, the ones who had play-acted at guarding the control room, flinch.

"You see, he was strong—but not trained in Giotto's particular brand of hand-to-hand combat." Pike cocks his head at the group. "Are any of you?"

"Your phaser," Amand states, "put it on the ground."

"Your department never had any problems. I always wondered why. Is this the foolish kind of loyalty your men have for you... or did you simply brainwash them?"

"Shut _up_ ," snarls the other officer. "We're here because natural law dictates we should be. The strong overtakes the weak."

Pike bares his teeth. "Then why are there so many of you?"

Amand fires to the side of Pike's head. "The next shot won't miss," he tells Pike. "Phaser on the ground. Now."

Pike is fully aware that Amand will shoot him regardless of what he does. He draws the phaser out and slowly places it by his feet. When Amand orders him to kick it over, he obeys.

Pike spreads his fingers in mock defeat. "Would you kill an unarmed man facing you?" The answer is in his attackers' eyes. They've come too far to let him go. "I see. You have no honor."

"Honor isn't our way," says one of the men.

"Then you haven't been paying attention to how I run this ship."

Amand barks out a laugh. "Oh, we know, Captain. On your ship, first officers inherit the captaincy without a fight."

The word _inherit_ sends a little zing through Pike, but he quickly reminds himself it is not likely these bastards know about Kirk's lineage.

He decides if he's going to die, it will be on his terms, not theirs. Instead of begging like Amand so clearly wants him to do, Pike laughs. "Sounds to me, boys, like you just hate the idea of a promotion being earned based on merit. Now why would that be?" he taunts. "Because you lack merit of your own?"

The ridiculing is a mistake. Pike isn't going to die fast as they must have originally planned. But knowing that certain death is staring back at him has never kept Pike out of a fight before—and it won't now.

Every man but Amand lift their phasers, hatred in their eyes. Amand is the one to call out, "Wait," and narrow his gaze at Pike as though he cannot comprehend how Pike's pride could be more important than his life.

"You were always an arrogant bastard."

Under the circumstances, Pike decides to take that as a compliment.

"Arrogant or not, he's as good as dead," says a different man. The others growl their agreement.

"I said _wait_ ," snaps Amand, glancing about. "Something's wrong." Then he freezes. "What is that?"

"Gas!" cries someone from the back.

Pike leaps forward for his phaser during the distraction at the same time Amand jerks around, aiming his weapon again. There comes a swooshing of air like a hatch being released behind Pike and a sudden cry of "Get down!"

Pike has an instant to feel his stomach drop before a body tackles him from behind.

He hits the floor, face up beside his savior, as a blast of phaser fire smashes into the paneling above their heads. Pike stares at the smoking scar left behind with a fuzzy kind of comprehension. The sound of men choking fades to background noise.

The gas reaches him, making his eyes tear up. A blurry face comes into view. Pike reacts by instinctively throwing an arm up to shove the person away, but weight presses down on his shoulder, forcing him to remain still.

"Stay down, sir."

Kirk's voice registers and Pike obeys, relaxing his other hand clutched around his dagger.

Kirk is on his knees already, flipping a communicator open almost without moving or taking his eyes off the curtain of smoke ahead of them.

Pike quickly assesses his first officer's appearance—and snarls at the realization that Kirk has no visible weapon on him. He grabs the man's wrist. "Where's your phaser?"

The side of Kirk's mouth tips up. "Don't have one."

Christopher is going to brain the fool. "Let me up. Get behind me." When Kirk refuses to move, he barks, "That's an order!"

"Negative," Jim responds coolly. Then, "It's nearly over."

That gives Pike pause. It doesn't prevent him from tensing, though, when he twists his head around in time to see a tall figure slowly breach the smoke, coming directly at them.

Pike shoves Kirk's hand off his shoulder and sits up, knowing with certain dread that one of them won't make it out of this trap alive.

Kirk shifts from his knees to his feet in a fluid movement while Pike follows more stiltedly, needing the wall as a brace when he experiences nearly overwhelming vertigo. Kirk doesn't appear affected by the gas at all.

He grabs the man's arm, prepared to do something dangerous and very likely stupid, though Pike doesn't know what his insane action will be yet. Doesn't matter as long as it saves his son.

Action becomes unnecessary, for the man who steps out of the smoke is Spock. On Spock's heels, clearing the smoke more hurriedly, is McCoy.

"All clear?" Jim asks.

Spock dips his head in confirmation. "The mutineers have been disabled."

McCoy comes around the Vulcan. "By god, man, we thought you'd taken a hit!" The doctor pulls up short when Jim raises the communicator in his hand toward his mouth.

"Scotty," Kirk repeats into the device, "all clear. Reverse the fans."

"Aye, Jim," comes a familiar brogue.

"And excellent work. Kirk out."

"Kirk," Pike manages to bleat around his shock, "what did you do?"

"Saved your life," answers McCoy sharply. The doctor's tone changes to concern. "You should sit down. This gas is the noxious kind. We all took pills to mitigate the worst effects—you didn't."

As McCoy's fussing goes on and the smoke curls back into the hallway's air vents, Pike decides he can wait to have his answer from Kirk. Yes, staring ahead at his attackers littering the floor, answers must wait. Some of the men look like they simply fell asleep; others are laid out like corpses in a morgue.

McCoy glances in the direction of Pike's stare and shrugs, stating matter-of-factly, "Don't worry about those fellows. They'll never get up again."

Pike takes note belatedly of the hypospray in the doctor's hand and the agonizer in Spock's. He turns to Kirk, feeling weak but hoping his face doesn't show it. "You knew."

Jim says, "Spock knew. Amand wasn't subtle about his visits to Science."

Kirk steps away from his captain, then, moving over to Spock and McCoy. The man places one hand on the Vulcan's shoulder and his other hand on the doctor's. "Well done, gentlemen."

McCoy smirks at first and then grins. Spock, though not so expressive, says, "Thank you, Jim," and seems pleased to receive the praise.

It must be the gas affecting him like McCoy described because just then Pike feels like he has stepped into a strange new world. He watches Kirk, Spock, and McCoy with wonder and a little envy.

Later, to Pike's amusement, McCoy manages to herd them all to Sickbay without any complaints (even from Jim). Only after Pike is safely ensconced under blankets in a biobed and Kirk is frowning over a vitamin shot he didn't ask for, does everything seem back to normal.

A norm, Pike realizes in that moment, that now includes Spock and McCoy as the right-hand and left-hand men of James Kirk's team.

McCoy was correct after all. Pike should have asked, should have faced what he feared to know.

Because the truth is far more frightening than he previously assumed. Jim has placed absolute trust in two men whom Pike has neither full knowledge of nor the necessary amount of resources to investigate properly. And that scares Captain Christopher Pike to the bone.

* * *

After a day of recovery in Sickbay and an additional day of rest in his quarters per McCoy's orders, Pike prays the excitement in his life is over and is of course sorely wrong.

His report of the mutiny and subsequent demise of the mutineers is received at Starfleet Headquarters by frowning admirals who care less about the fact that a talented captain almost died and more about dissension in the ranks making Starfleet service look bad. But rather than give Pike time to settle his men, Command hands down their verdict as an unwelcoming schedule change to test if the crew of the _Enterprise_ will dissolve under the mounting pressure. No longer tasked with ferrying the starbase-bound admirals to the Babel Conference (which in and of itself would have been troublesome and a headache, in Pike's opinion), the _Enterprise_ is now responsible for safely delivering the event's most honored guest. And though it goes unsaid, if Pike cannot pull off this mission without creating a diplomatic incident, he will lose his captain's strips.

What concerns Pike more is that with Ambassador Sarek on the _Enterprise_ , the meeting between father and son will be unavoidable. That alone makes Pike suspicious of his new orders. Yet at the same time he could applaud the idiot offering him the advantage. Given that the starship is his to command, there won't be an issue with monitoring Spock's interaction with Sarek. Moreover, Pike is saved from the risky venture of bringing his Vulcan science officer to the conference itself.

He delivers this news with semi-satisfaction during the weekly update with his department chiefs. All heads (barring Kirk's) turn in Spock's direction.

Spock inquires coolly, "We will be required to wear our dress uniforms, Captain?"

Kirk, inspecting a stylus pen much too studiously, smirks. Scott and McCoy fill the briefing room with curses.

Sighing internally, Pike acknowledges the legitimacy of the question. "Yes. An ambassador from a neighboring empire must be shown the proper respect."

"Then we can assess whether or not he's an enemy," mutters Scott, "and dispose of the body parts."

McCoy flings his pen at the engineer's head. "Watch it. That's Spock's father you're talking about."

Spock hardly appears disturbed by the conversation, and Kirk is just amused, saying, "Good to know you care, Bones."

McCoy switches his narrow-eyed stare to Jim but, strangely, offers no argument.

Pike's curiosity is piqued, sensing a new undercurrent between Kirk and McCoy. He'll shake it out of his First sooner or later—preferably sooner.

"Mr. Spock, put our destination on the main screen. The Babel Conference will be four days' journey from our rendezvous point. Four days," the captain stresses, "so McCoy has a point. I want everyone on their best behavior. The Vulcan Ambassador should come away with the impression that, down to the lowest-ranking officer, we have a willingness to cooperate." He looks pointedly at Kirk. "In other words, no antagonizing the Vulcans. This conference is to prevent war, not start one."

Kirk's lazy, arrogant smile belies his polite "Duly noted."

Alone with Kirk, Pike would have rolled his eyes. He resists the urge. "Does anyone else have anything to add?" When silence ensues, the captain stands up from the table. "Dismissed, gentlemen," he announces, then points to the science officer, "—except you."

Almost everyone files out of the room. When Jim slips unobtrusively into place at Spock's side, Pike pins Kirk a look of no-nonsense. "I said dismissed."

Wordlessly Jim looks to Spock, who nods subtly. Then Jim obeys.

Pike waits until the door is fully closed behind Kirk before he widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest. "Tell me, Mr. Spock, should I be worried that my first officer considers your opinion more important than my order?"

"You would be mistaken to believe that Jim considers any opinion more valuable than yours."

Pike is taken aback. "He told you that?"

Spock is silent for a moment. "Dr. McCoy did. Having observed Kirk's regard for you on numerous occasions, I must conclude the doctor is correct."

Pike considers the Vulcan. "Does it bother you?"

From his seat, Spock blinks at him. "I do not understand your inquiry."

"Yes, you do," Pike counters patiently, "but I'll play along. Are you bothered by the idea that Kirk may hold someone in high regard other than you?"

There's nothing readable in the Vulcan's gaze, not a shade of surprise or a flicker of emotion. Pike is impressed by Spock's self-control.

"I'm asking if you're jealous, Lieutenant-Commander," Pike presses. "Because if you are, or if you intend to be in the future, you have no place among my crew."

"You desire that no person should feel close to Kirk. No one except you, sir," and despite Spock's polite monotone, that statement is very much an accusation.

"I want no one distracting him with petty feelings," Pike slaps back. Dropping his arms to his sides, Christopher stalks around the table separating them. "Make no mistake, Mr. Spock, if I wanted to keep Kirk isolated, I would _not_ have allowed you or anyone else to serve under him."

Finally, something—though unnamed—flashes through Spock's gaze. "Jim Kirk is not your slave."

"Nor is he yours," Pike counters, voice hard.

"If this is all you wished to discuss, I will take my leave, Captain." The Vulcan abandons his chair abruptly, either stupid or foolishly brave.

Pike takes a breath, then another. "It's not."

Spock locks his hands behind his back. Being a seasoned officer, Pike recognizes the look in the other's eyes now. Spock may appear calm but his temper is dancing on a knife's edge—and he won't hesitate to give in to that desire for violence if Pike continues to push him.

For both their sakes, Pike retreats behind a wall of neutrality. "Your father will be on this ship for several days while we journey to Earth. While I will not demand that you stay away from Sarek, I need your agreement that however you choose to engage with him will be done so with discretion."

The intensity of Spock's gaze recedes. "Is that decision wise?"

"I find it amusing you would ask me that, Mr. Spock. But to answer you… we'll see."

"My actions shall be discreet, Captain."

"Good," Pike mutters. "Dismissed."

Spock heads from the door.

Pike calls to him as an afterthought, because there is one point he wants Spock to understand, "James's future is here, on the _Enterprise_. Neither you or I can sway a man's destiny, Mr. Spock."

After a moment, Spock replies, "But we can be included in it."

Pike sucks in a breath, but the Vulcan is already through the doorway and down the corridor by the time Pike turns around.

* * *

The days leading up to the scheduled pick-up of Vulcan's ambassador are uneventful. Pike is struck by a sense of déjà-vu when he strolls onto the bridge an hour before arrival at the designated rendezvous point in the neutral zone between the Terran and Vulcan empires. The only difference, he notes, is that Kirk is beside him and not held prisoner on a ship from the other side.

When a Vulcan starship appears in range, Pike is saved the trouble of opening a channel because this time the Vulcans contact them first.

Pike responds to the " _Intrepid_ to _Enterprise_ " with an immediate "Acknowledge the hail, Mr. Sanson."

From his captain's chair, he replies, "This is Captain Pike of the _ISS Enterprise_." A visual comes on the main screen, and Pike manages to mask his surprise. "We read you loud and clear, _Intrepid_."

The Vulcan is at the helm of the other ship raises her chin. "Captain Pike, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am T'Pring, commanding officer of this vessel."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Captain T'Pring," Pike relays the same trivialities after noting the ranking pins on her uniform collar.

T'Pring gives Pike the odd impression she is amused by him as she openly scrutinizes his ship's bridge. "You wish to know the whereabouts of Commodore Stonn," she states.

Pike nods. "News would be welcome. We were… familiar with one another."

"Stonn was relieved of command in light of his need to return to Vulcan." T'Pring seems to momentarily focus her stare over Pike's shoulder before finishing the explanation. "He must prepare for his marriage ceremony."

"In that case, send Stonn my congratulations."

T'Pring's amusement fades. "I shall, Captain—though most males of our species would take such a remark as a slight."

Pike's eyebrows shoot up.

"A Vulcan marriage ceremony is not an event worthy of celebration." But T'Pring doesn't elaborate further; instead her attention shifts once more, this time staying elsewhere. "Greetings, Spock, son of Sarek."

Pike twists around in his chair to stare at the officer standing stiffly next to his science scope.

"T'Pring," Spock responds.

Pike faces forward again after glancing sideways out of curiosity at his second-in-command. Kirk seems fixated on the Vulcan captain in the same way she had been on Spock. His expression is shuttered.

A red alert sounds in Pike's head. He ignores it. "Captain, please inform Ambassador Sarek that our departure must commence relatively soon."

"I have already done so. The ambassador requested a shuttle service to the _Enterprise_. Will such be possible?"

Again, Pike is caught off-guard, but he says, "We can accommodate that." Pike stands up from his chair and straightens the front of his dress uniform.

"A moment, Captain Pike," T'Pring delays him. Her gaze lands on the man beside the captain's chair. "Mr. Kirk, I am pleased to meet you again."

Kirk's sudden smile is disarming, especially for someone who had appeared standoffish only seconds ago. "The pleasure is mine, T'Pring. Congratulations on your promotion."

"I offer congratulations as well. Truly, your—" Her gaze flicks to Spock. "—accomplishment is unprecedented. We underestimated you, Commander. Next time," she says straightforwardly, following a pause, "we will not. _Intrepid_ out." The image of T'Pring fades away.

Kirk exhales slowly. But when Pike looks at the first officer expectantly, the man only murmurs, "Later," and precedes him to the upper deck.

Rather than following Kirk directly to the lift, Pike stops to face his science officer. "Mr. Spock, inform McCoy, Scott, and Giotto of the change in reception locale. We'll convene outside the shuttle hangar."

"Understood."

Pike remarks pointedly, "I expect to see you there."

Spock's "Affirmative" offers no insight into his feelings about the order.

Pike joins Kirk in the turbolift, waiting until the door is closed to ask, "How do you know T'Pring?"

Smiling thinly, Kirk says, "By human standards, I suppose we should call her the ex-wife."

"Whose?" Pike questions in surprise.

Kirk's smile becomes flat. "Mr. Spock's."

And that, it seems, is all the information the other man is willing to share with his captain. Obviously Pike doesn't know any of this hither-to unmentioned backstory, but on some level he fears he is going to hear about it soon.

The remainder of the trip to the shuttle bay is made in silence.

* * *

Security chief Giotto has the uncanny ability to show up when Pike least expects him. Often times, the man's unobtrusive appearance is more unsettling than it is welcoming. Perhaps sensing that today is not the day for Christopher to feel unsettled, Giotto alerts the captain to his impending arrival by calling ahead.

Therefore Pike is ready and waiting when Giotto strides through the hangar archway, two red-shirted officers at his back. Giotto pauses to assess the area, studying the foreign shuttlecraft docked in the bay. "He's here already?"

"Precisely on time," Pike says. "We're running scans now. The pilot will be allowed to power down in a minute or so."

"Never seen the inside of that model. I wouldn't mind a tour."

"I'll make the request." Pike indicates the extra security Giotto brought. "In the meantime, keep your men out of the way. The last thing I want to hear from the ambassador is that he feels like he is under surveillance."

"Should we keep an eye on him?" Giotto inquires in a mild tone.

"It never hurts to gather intel while performing one's duty."

Giotto nods subtly.

Pike clears his throat, continuing on, "There's a small welcoming party scheduled during beta shift."

"I received the attendance roster from Mr. Kirk," the other man confirms.

"Stay alert," Christopher reminds him. "You and I both have seen how easy it is to buy a man's conscience and his sword. Some fool might think he's sly enough to end my career and shatter the Terran-Vulcan Alliance at the same time. Ambassador Sarek cannot come to harm in any way while he's aboard the _Enterprise_."

"I'll protect him like he's the Emperor himself, Captain."

Pike's mouth curves slightly. "I wouldn't go that far, Mr. Giotto. The Vulcan might get ideas."

Amusement comes into Giotto's eyes. "From what I've seen, Vulcans already consider themselves our superiors."

Pike shakes his head slightly. "Mr. Spock does have a way of expressing himself."

"Most of us don't take offense, sir." Giotto pauses. "Well, except Dr. McCoy. Usually, after meeting with Mr. Spock he looks like a cat dunked in a tub of water and rubbed the wrong way."

Pike presses the back of his hand against his mouth, choking.

"But you didn't hear that from me," Giotto mutters. "I try not be noticed by McCoy."

"Same," Pike murmurs. When he's certain his urge to laugh won't come back, he removes his hand. "Speak of the devil, as our doctor says."

Giotto shifts to stand next to Pike, watching the three-pronged formation of Spock, Scott, and McCoy come down the short hallway.

McCoy's dress uniform, like Spock's, is nicely form-fitting. Scott's look like he borrowed the wrong size and tried to fit into it anyway. One of the medallions on his chest is upside-down.

Next to Pike, Giotto sighs through his nose. "I've seen worse."

Kirk appears at Pike's other elbow. "I let Scotty borrow some of mine."

Pike and Giotto frown at Kirk. "Borrow what?" Pike asks.

"Medallions," Kirk elaborates. "You have no idea how many hours I had to listen to him complain about having only _two._ " Kirk shrugs. "Since I had too many to wear on my uniform, I gave him the extras."

Pike sighs internally, thinking, _Only you, Kirk_. "Don't I give out enough commendations?"

"No," Kirk answers immediately, looking mischievous. "Especially not to Mr. Scott."

"Duly noted," Pike comments dryly.

Giotto makes an excuse to leave and does so quickly. Pike and Kirk join the other officers in the hallway.

At his approach, Pike hears McCoy ask Spock, "How's that greeting go?"

The doctor is staring at one of the Vulcan's hands.

Spock obediently lifts that hand in the Vulcan salutation. "Do you refer to this greeting, Dr. McCoy?"

McCoy frowns momentarily before lifting his own hand in a replica of Spock's.

Kirk whistles. "That's perfect, Bones." Then Kirk's hand goes up.

McCoy snorts. "Are you trying to greet somebody or flip them off?"

Kirk seems proud of his crooked salutation. "Spock says it's adequate."

The others in the group snicker, even Scott who is trying to separate his fingers to look like everyone else's. Pike privately decides Spock must be humoring Jim. Though considering that Spock refuses to look any of them in the eyes, the reason why must be an illogical one.

As Jim waves his salutation around, McCoy rolls his eyes and slaps at the man's hand. "Put that down before you put somebody's eye out."

Pike hates to break up the fun but duty calls. "Attention."

The officers assemble into a line with Kirk positioned first by the archway. Pike nods his approval of the order and heads back into the hangar. The shuttle's hatch is open and its ramp secured to the hangar floor.

At first, the figure in the hatchway appears daunting, even weaponless and robed in a garment that doesn't seem practical for fighting.

Pike bows slightly from the waist. He calls up to the figure, "Ambassador Sarek, welcome to the _ISS Enterprise_. I am Captain Christopher Pike, in command of this vessel."

Sarek moves down the ramp at an unhurried pace. When he is on the ground level in front of Pike, he says, "Captain Pike, long have I waited to meet you."

A part of Pike wants to ask out of suspicion why, but for the sake of maintaining a diplomatic accord, he looks pleased. "I am honored to be of interest to you, Ambassador Sarek. Please, come this way."

Pike leads Sarek from the shuttle bay to the archway where his senior officers are lined up. Back ramrod-straight, Kirk has his poker face in place as Pike begins introductions; until, that is, the ambassador addresses the commander directly with "James Tiberius Kirk, well met."

Kirk breaks form and gazes at the Vulcan with almost glowing pleasure. "You remembered my middle name."

"Vulcans have impeccable memories, Commander."

"Of course, Ambassador," Kirk replies good-naturedly. "I hope your journey was undisturbed."

Sarek's affable tone belies his serious delivery. "Conditions were favorable."

Pike is completed baffled. Are these two chatting about the weather? _In space?_

Sarek seems to recognize he is doing something unusual, for he moves on without another word to the next person in line.

After Pike's introduction, McCoy stops gawking at the Vulcan to offer a polite, "Welcome aboard, Ambassador."

Sarek raises an eyebrow. "Thank you, Dr. McCoy."

Next up, Mr. Scott tries to use his version of the Vulcan salutation. Sarek responds with a courteous "Live long and prosper."

Pike forces himself to take a deep breath when Sarek reaches Spock. "Ambassador," he says, "this is my Chief Science Officer, Mr. Spock."

"Science Officer Spock," Sarek states slowly. His gaze never wavers from Spock's; nor does Spock's from his father's. "I understand Mr. Spock is the first Vulcan to enter Starfleet service."

"That is correct," Pike replies, aware of tension from the other men in line.

"Then I hope he performs his duties adequately," Sarek concludes, "as his behavior reflects upon all Vulcans."

That comment is not meant for the humans present, and everyone knows it. Sarek holds his son's gaze a moment longer as if finishing up a private conversation, and then finally the ambassador moves on.

"Spock," Pike hears McCoy whisper while leading Sarek to the turbolift at the end of the personnel gangway, "are you okay?"

"Perfectly, Doctor."

"Well, I'm not. Who wants a drink?"

Scott gives his enthusiastic assent. Thankfully, the rest of that conversation is obscured by the closing door of the lift.

Arriving on the deck housing the ship's guest quarters, Sarek spares no attention for the appearance of a small security escort. Like Pike, he accepts the illusion of privacy for what is: a courtesy, nothing more.

Pike says once at the door to Sarek's cabin, "We would like to host a small banquet in your honor this afternoon. Would that be acceptable?"

"As you wish, Captain Pike."

"Thank you. Your belongings will be transferred to your quarters shortly."

Sarek inclines his head. Pike bows. After the Vulcan disappears inside his quarters, Pike breathes a sigh of relief.

He approves the stationing of two guards outside the door and goes along his way, wondering if he has already experienced the worst of what this journey has to offer or if more is still to come.

His streak of luck tends to favor the latter.

* * *

Pike discovers Kirk, Spock, and McCoy in a quiet corner of the ballroom, oblivious to the socializing and schmoozing between officers happening around them.

"A mind-numbing party," proclaims the CMO as he turns his attention to the approaching captain. He knocks back his drink, finishing the complaint with "Tell me again why I have to be here?"

Pike looks to Kirk. Kirk dutifully pats McCoy's shoulder.

"You represent the fine men and women of Starfleet Medical," Jim says.

"Most of whom are either soulless, talentless, or _both_ ," the doctor grumbles.

"Not on our ship, Bones." Kirk winks at Pike, takes away McCoy's empty glass and heads through the crowded room, no doubt to have it refilled.

Pike looks from McCoy to Spock and back again. As if disturbed by this scrutiny, Spock politely excuses himself and follows in Jim's wake.

"Coward," mutters McCoy.

Pike withholds judgment on that observation, saying instead, "I meant to tell you earlier, Doctor. The dress uniform suits you."

McCoy tugs at his collar. "Damn thing's been choking me all day."

The act amuses Pike. "Your sacrifice is appreciated."

"Nah, it's not much of a sacrifice," says McCoy unexpectedly, flapping a dismissive hand. "Now if I was Mr. Scott? Unable to muck around with those precious engines lest this precious uniform get dirty?" McCoy looks gleeful for a second. "It's _killing_ him."

Well, that explains why the Chief Engineer hasn't said more than two words to Pike since this morning and why those two words sounded very peevish.

Noticing who is heading in their direction, Pike clears his throat in warning. Then he leans toward McCoy, teasing, "How's your small talk?"

McCoy twists at the waist to look. "Oh wonderful."

Pike suppresses a grin.

When the honored guest of the banquet finally reaches them, Sarek inclines his head in greeting, and then, of all things, says, "Am I to understand it would be rude to insert myself into your conversation for the sake of small talk?"

Pike nearly chokes on his own spit.

McCoy's face reddens. "Damn it, I forgot about his Vulcan hearing."

Pike stops himself from balling a fist in the doctor's tunic and shaking the fool. How could McCoy confirm that Vulcans have acute hearing and _not_ share that tidbit with his captain? A man doesn't need to be blindsided like this in front of a renowned liaison of another empire!

McCoy's embarrassment melts to wryness when he sees Pike's expression. But all he does is shrug and murmur, "Sorry."

Sarek is either oblivious to their exchange or too polite to comment on it. Pike would bet a month's salary on the latter.

Bowing from the waist, Pike apologizes. "We meant no offense, Ambassador."

"None taken," Sarek replies serenely. "In any event, Captain, I should like to discuss a private matter with you."

Thank god, state affairs Pike can handle. With one last nonplussed look at McCoy, the captain guides the Vulcan to a table where Sarek takes a seat. Muttering the excuse that he needs to find one of Kirk or Spock, McCoy is quick to leave the pair alone.

Sarek asks, "Why would my son have a position on the Imperial flagship?"

Caught off-guard, Pike says, "Why do you care?"

Sarek's response is a coldly formal "The concern comes from the Vulcan High Council. Surely it cannot be wise to allow a recruit of Vulcan origin to join the senior ranks of a ship used to further the human cause."

"Maybe you wouldn't place a human on your best warship, but our kind isn't like yours, Ambassador."

"Clearly."

The response, stated so matter-of-factly, rankles. But Pike has dealt with plenty of political heresy before.

He says, "If there are issues with Mr. Spock or his service, we will handle them well and, I assure you, discreetly."

"The Council wishes to be kept apprised of his adaptation to this… new environment."

An odd request, thinks Pike, considering they exiled Spock. "I'll see what can be done," he replies courteously.

Sarek stares at him, unblinking, for a long moment. Then, "Do you believe it is possible for Spock to thrive among your crew?"

That's a father asking, Pike guesses. "I do believe it's possible."

"Yet I estimate his chances of survival to be very… poor, Captain."

"It would appear that way," Pike says. "But my first officer thinks he can help Spock to acclimate more quickly to humans in this position. I'm not sure why he thinks that, but I gave up years ago trying to figure Kirk out."

"Then you offered no protest." That is not quite a question and not quite a statement either. It's as if Sarek is trying to judge Pike's personal acceptance of Spock.

Pike remarks, "Kirk's usually right."

Sarek raises an eyebrow, and in that moment Pike can see a similarity between Spock and his father.

He adds as an afterthought. "Your son tends to follow my officer's suggestions as well. Perhaps Spock's intuition tells him that Kirk has his best interests at heart."

"Intuition? A human characteristic," says Sarek. "My son is not human."

"With all due respect, Ambassador, Spock had a human mother."

Sarek shifts to tuck his hands in the long sleeves of his garment. "Spock's upbringing should not be your concern—or that of anyone in the Terran Empire."

"Then his treatment here, away from _your_ Empire, should not be a concern of yours," Pike retaliates.

"I see," Sarek remarks softly, undoubtedly recognizing that they have arrived at a stalemate.

Pike notices Kirk approaching them from the side. For some reason, the man does not appear happy. The captain steps back from the table.

"Is there something you need from me, Mr. Kirk?"

Jim scratches Pike's temper by ignoring the direct question in lieu of addressing the other person at the table. "I would be happy to discuss Mr. Spock's situation on the _Enterprise_. Our physician, Dr. McCoy, is also willing to speak with you."

"Kirk!" Pike calls sharply.

Kirk's gaze flicks over to him. "I have the responsibility for Spock, Captain, remember?"

"I'm not likely to forget," Pike says in a hard tone. What in hell is Kirk trying to do?

"Perhaps," Sarek intercedes, "this discussion should be pursued in a more discreet location?"

Pike and Kirk ignore the suggestion, squaring off.

"You will not talk with the Ambassador without my leave," Pike orders. "Understood?"

Kirk raises his chin. "Negative, sir."

Pike is vaguely aware of the attention they are drawing from the others in the ballroom, but feels far more concerned that Kirk is set on publicly defying him. Did nothing he say about maintaining the illusion of harmony during the briefing stay with his First?

Pike warns the man, "You're walking a fine line, Commander. Give me one good reason not to call Security and have you escorted to the brig."

"Because," Jim says as he holds Pike's gaze, heat in his own eyes, "Ambassador Sarek—"

"Jim! Not like this," hisses McCoy, looking unusually pale—but not as pale as the Vulcan standing next to him.

"—is my father-in-law," finishes Kirk.

The buzzing in Pike's ears is a weird thing, normally only occurring when he is in close proximity to the blast range of a phaser cannon. The buzzing spreads along Pike's skin.

The muted noise of his surroundings ends when McCoy, abruptly inside the captain's personal space, grabs Pike's wrist. Pike swallows, then, realizing the doctor is taking his pulse the old-fashioned way.

Something, Pike once read, one only does to a man in a state of shock.

Just like that the buzzing dissipates, and Pike's brain comes online again. He shakes off McCoy's touch, taking a step back from their tight little group, then another step. Christopher has certainly been caught by surprise before, but not like this.

 _Never_ like this.

With a voice that allows no challenge, no discussion, no defiance, he commands, "Mr. Kirk, with me."

There is no need to barrel through the crowd; the men and women watching the proceedings jump back from Pike like he's on fire.

That's just as well, thinks Christopher, because he would rather reserve the rage burning in him for one man alone.


	4. Part Four

**Parts Three and Four were posted together. Please read Part Three first if you have not!**

* * *

Pike snaps the stopper back into a gourd-shaped bottle, lifting a near-to-overflowing glass of brandy towards his mouth. However, agitated, he places the glass on his desk without drinking. Finally having some sort of clarity into Kirk's attachment to Spock has given him energy. He chooses to expend that energy by pacing the length of the main cabin of his quarters. Vibrating with a similar tension, the only other person in the room wordlessly tracks the captain's trajectory.

With a practiced detachment, Pike picks apart his stew of emotions while his legs ruthlessly ferry him back and forth. Shock and anger—expected reactions. Hurt… Not expected but allowable. After all, Christopher's weakness is having a heart.

The hurt is what sticks in his throat. Pike swallows against it, more furious than before, and rounds on Kirk. "Were you planning to tell me?"

"Yes."

"When?" Pike demands.

"Soon," Jim replies. "At least I hoped I could. I wanted to be certain you were satisfied that Spock joined Starfleet for an unobjectionable reason before I told you."

"Did it occur to you that telling me would have expedited my confidence in him?"

"I…" Kirk flinches. "No, sir."

"In other words," Pike asserts angrily, shoving that hurt down again, "you did not think you could count on my reaction benefiting your situation. You didn't _trust_ me, Kirk."

Jim's throat works. "I'm sorry."

" _Bullshit._ " Pike snaps, "Your only regret is having your secret exposed."

Kirk steps forward, then, eyes flashing. He shoves a thumb into his chest. " _I'm_ the one who exposed it!"

Pike closes the remaining distance between them, snarling, "You lied to me. _Have_ been lying to me since you returned to the ship."

"You didn't ask the right questions."

"Omission is still lying, James!" Pike roars. "I had a right to know!"

Kirk's mouth snaps shut. Then, slowly but stubbornly, he argues, "Says who?"

Pike's chest expands in rage—and deflates just as quickly, his anger overwhelmed by that hurt which won't disappear. "Why?" he asks. "Why couldn't you tell me? Is it because of the—" The very words are painful to speak. "—Vulcan operation? Because it's my fault that Command picked you?"

An emotion close to surprise overrides the anger in Kirk's expression. "Captain, that wasn't your fault."

"We both know that's not true," Christopher says unhappily. "They took you from the _Enterprise_ to hamper my command."

"Still not your fault," Jim insists. "They made a stupid plan to begin with." He attempts a smile that falters halfway through. "And it didn't work."

"Because you had luck on your side."

"I don't think it was luck, sir." Kirk pauses, considering Pike. "It was Spock."

"Tell me," Pike says, "and this time don't leave any part out."

"I had to survive," Jim murmurs.

The hesitancy in Kirk's voice, Christopher guesses, is because Kirk believes his captain will judge him harshly.

But Pike doesn't feel capable of that right now. He breathes out quietly, asking with deliberate calm, "What happened that caused you to hold on to Spock? Did you make a deal with him to escape execution?"

Jim shakes his head. "It isn't quite like that."

"Help me understand how we came to this, James. I give you my word I won't think less of you."

Finally, Kirk's shoulders relax. "Spock and I met at the VSA. He was assigned to oversee our research group. We… connected. Not as friends, per se, but not quite adversaries either. One night I was—" Jim makes a face. "—feeling homesick. I drank too much, and I think I talked about some personal things I shouldn't have. Nothing that would jeopardize the mission," he is quick to add.

"Of course not," Pike states with confidence. "Go on."

"To be honest, I didn't think anything of it. Not long after that, the Vulcans found evidence that our group was collecting unauthorized intel on them. The team was arrested." Jim takes a deep breath. "I mentioned to you they had a special technique for interrogation. Each of us was taken in turn. Whoever left never came back. I was the last one."

In that moment, Pike feels a blind hatred for the Vulcan Empire. It isn't rational, being a parent's gut-reaction to a child's cruel treatment at a stranger's hands, but he doesn't care.

"Spock was waiting for me. He had been chosen to perform the mind-meld."

Pike's heart begins to race, remembering McCoy's speech about the dangers of tampering with one's mind, but his voice manages to stay level. "Go on."

Jim's mouth tips up in a ghost of a smile. "The others assumed he was torturing me when the opposite was true. Apparently I had told Spock something interesting while drunk that made him re-assess his own situation and draw a new conclusion. When Spock was in my mind, he told me that the future I sought couldn't be achieved alone." Jim's smile finally blooms. "And if I would agree to bind with him, I could survive the interrogation."

Pike releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "You chose the only option you had." Because the other option is unthinkable, having Kirk's mind torn apart before his body was destroyed.

How swiftly hatred can be replaced with gratitude, Pike realizes. He owes the Vulcan a debt for saving his son's life.

Jim keeps talking. "By the time the Vulcan in charge realized I wasn't a drooling, gibbering mess like I should have been, it was too late. The bond Spock created isn't arbitrary. It couldn't be undone without killing both of us—and because Spock is part of the House of Surak, they could not execute him without repercussion from the House matriarch. I lived so he could live, and vice versa."

Pike nods slowly. "That explains why the Vulcan High Council was eager to trade you back to us."

"I think they hoped the long-distance separation would weaken our connection. That, or the Terran Empire would kill me such that no Vulcan would be outwardly responsible for Spock's demise. As penance for his actions, Spock had to personally see me returned to the Terran Empire, knowing we would never cross paths again." Jim's smile reaches his eyes then. "What idiots though. Spock never had any intention of staying behind. On the _Intrepid_ , he used every opportunity to needle Commodore Stonn, and of course Stonn handed both of us to you. The rest, as they say, is history."

Pike sighs through his nose. _A reckless plan_ , he thinks. And yet successful, as a Kirk plan almost always, impossibly is. "Is that all of it?"

"Well… being cut off from the Vulcan Empire does have its own set of problems," Jim remarks, suddenly looking sly. "If anything goes wrong with our—" He points at his head. "—you know, we don't have a Vulcan healer to fix it. I promised Spock we would search for a substitute physician, though Spock being Spock expressed doubt that _any_ human would be capable of being properly trained."

Unfortunately, Pike knows his son all too well not to see where this conversation is headed. He closes his eyes and stubbornly refuses to open them. "McCoy."

"Yep, Spock's wrong," Jim confirms cheerfully. "Thanks for Bones, by the way. I didn't expect to find someone like him so soon."

Oh, Pike is definitely not the one to be praised. The universe did it. Or that trickster Fate. Poor McCoy.

A thought pops into the captain's head. He opens his eyes. "McCoy knows?"

"In a way," Jim answers too vaguely for a man normally so direct.

"Kirk," Christopher demands, "what have you done to my CMO?"

Kirk lifts his hands in a placating gesture. "Nothing he didn't agree to. McCoy may be an old-fashioned boy, but he is far more ambitious than he lets on."

Pike chastises himself. Truly, he should have known. Kirk enjoys impossible feats, the kind that make average men give up out of common sense.

Common sense has rarely been a factor in James Kirk's decisions. Pike is almost afraid to ask his next question. "So, you acquired a Vulcan and a doctor, both of whom have agreed to help you with a secretive master plan. Care to share that plan with the rest of the class?"

Kirk's sly look turns considering. "I wonder, would you believe me if I told you?"

Pike doesn't see how he has a choice in the matter. "Let me be the judge of that."

Kirk still seems doubtful.

Pike reminds him, "No more secrets."

The man loses all expression. Pike becomes wary, but forces himself to wait out the silence.

Kirk eventually rallies himself, sounding as serious as any cadet taking his first history course when he asks, "Are we evil?"

Pike frowns. "Who's we?"

"Starfleet. Those who serve the Emperor."

A delicate subject, one that Pike is fully aware must be broached with care. "Why do you ask?"

"Remember the Organians? They said our methods were crude. Barbaric."

Pike presses his mouth flat. "The Organians should assess what they see in the mirror before judging others. They're the ones who lured two empires to their planet and set a trap to see if they could get us to start a war that would destroy one another."

"But they had a point," Jim argues. "What we do, our methods… our philosophy is questionable."

Damn, it's as Pike feared. "If you think we act questionably," he says grimly, "then you aren't comfortable with how Starfleet operates. You should have told me that long ago."

"Why?"

"Because I would have never remanded you to the Imperial service."

Jim denies, "I'm not uncomfortable," only to amend under Pike's level stare, "…not always. Besides what cadet knows better while training? Murder isn't encouraged, but it isn't against the law for officers either."

"What's your point?"

"When I served under you, I realized something." Jim seems to be searching his captain's neutral expression for some kind of confirmation. "You almost never attack our enemies without provocation. You don't slaughter the prey. If there's a way to prevent the destruction of those standing on the opposite side, you take it."

With vicious effort, Pike tamps down on guilt. "I try to do what's in the Empire's best interests."

Jim's tone sharpens. "No one argues with a commander who says annihilation is the only option. But you expend more energy and resources than the 'Fleet captains combined on convincing High Command why sparing an inferior race is the smartest thing to do."

Pike is annoyed only because the person to finally call him out on his abnormal tactics would, of course, end up being his son. That doesn't prevent him from unleashing his annoyance, though. "Kirk, if you have a problem with my method of command, just tell me that."

"That's not it." Now Jim appears equally annoyed.

Pike draws his eyebrows together in consternation—and very, very slowly begins to comprehend what Kirk is having difficulty putting into words. At last, he sighes and asks, "Do you think I'm evil?"

"No," Jim says instantly.

"Am I good?"

The man answers more slowly, "No."

"Then I must be somewhere in between. Which is where you would put yourself, or want to. Am I correct?"

Jim looks uncomfortable. "If you can do it, so can I."

Pike suppresses a groan. "Kirk, we are not in a contest."

The brightness of the other man's eyes says otherwise.

"Let me be frank. You don't want my kind of problems. Do you know why Amand wanted to be rid of me so badly?"

At the mention of Amand, a snarl curls Kirk's mouth. "Because he was a fool to think he could pull it off?"

Pike ignores that. "Primarily he was after revenge, yes, but also because he thought I was weak. A blight on the sterling reputation of Starfleet, if you will. Someone who doesn't always fall in line is a liability to the crew."

"Bullshit," snaps Jim.

"No it's not," Pike argues calmly. "When a captain gambles wrong, everyone pays the price."

"So?" Jim seems annoyed again. "Being Captain means taking risks."

"Being a _soldier_ means following orders," counters Christopher.

"We don't have to march to someone else's command."

Pike pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing again. "You sound like Boyce."

Jim crosses his arms over his chest, jaw set in a stubborn line. "I always agreed with Phil. This ship, this _crew_ , should be different from the others. How can we expect our race to survive if we refuse to evolve? Evolution is imminent for every species." Jim's mouth forms an unhappy line even as he explains, "I've been—am doing—all that I can to find and retain people like me."

" _You?_ " Pike echoes sharply.

Jim won't look him in the eyes all of a sudden. "Yeah, me. We both know I never fit the status quo."

Pike stiffens. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"I know that now," Jim says. "I accept that." Returning his gaze to Pike, he wants to know, "Can you?"

Pike lets his temper fly, saying with an edge not quite honed enough to cut, "If I wanted some spineless prick for a first officer, you wouldn't be on this ship. Since I came from nothing, I _know_ what a man needs to become in order to survive—and it isn't a lapdog who licks crumbs off another man's hand. So, yes, I can appreciate your differences, Kirk. Those differences are why someday you will be a better captain than I am. In fact," he challenges, "I _dare_ you to do better."

Kirk stares back.

Pike tightens the leash on his temper once more, choosing to end their tense staring contest by turning his back. "Return to duty, Mr. Kirk," he says, his tone unyielding. A lengthening silence makes him add, "We're done here."

"No."

Pike twists around at the waist, ready with his most authoritative captain's voice.

"We aren't done, sir." Jim meets his gaze fearlessly. "I have one more thing to say… to my father."

An invisible fist punches the air from Pike's lungs. He couldn't enforce Kirk's dismissal now even if he wanted to. His body is frozen.

Kirk's arms drop to his sides. "My mother said my father wasn't an ordinary man. Because of that, she kept me." Though Jim shifts on his feet, his gaze never wavers from Pike's. "I called her a liar, of course. I said I had never even met the cold-hearted bastard so what proof did I have? Mother just laughed. The proof, she said, would be when he came for me."

Sweat breaks out on Pike's forehead.

Jim's voice loses some of its color. "We moved to Tarsus IV when I was fifteen. The uprisings started soon after. When Kodos was finally killed and his followers along with him, everyone I cared about was dead. I thought I'd be enslaved or worse, stripped to a status lower than a slave just by virtue of being a survivor on a traitor's colony." He says nothing for a moment, then picks up as if he had never stopped talking. "And then there you were. The man who came to fetch me from that hell. She didn't lie after all."

Pike finally remembers how to breathe. With caution now, he turns to face Kirk directly, the movement more awkward than graceful.

After a second, steadying breath, he finds his voice. "I didn't know you existed until Winona sent me a missive a few weeks prior to the Tarsus Revolt."

And hadn't that been the shock of his life? Winona, being a person not to mince words, had relayed her message as briefly as possible: _You have a son. I named him James Tiberius. Come and get him._

In the time it took Pike to find the trail leading to Winona and this unknown child of theirs, the Tarsus IV colony had been nearly destroyed—and so had Pike's long-held vision for his future. Volunteering to go with the clean-up crew assigned to the mess left after Governor Kodos's attempt to "free" his constituents from the Empire had been shocking to his peers and superiors alike; they all believed he had some ulterior motive for the request, and while right about that, they had made the false assumption it was to stand out. But en route to the colony, combing subspace transmissions with his heart in his throat for news of survivors, Pike forgot concepts like loyalty and promotions, despite only weeks ago having been scheming for a captaincy. Instead he tried to devise a way to fit a child—namely Jim—into a grueling military life.

Now that Christopher thinks back on the matter, Winona's note had had impeccable timing: it gave him long enough to make his choice and at the same time allowed for events to play out to completion on Tarsus IV.

"Did she ever… contact you before that?" Jim asks him.

"No. I hadn't heard from your mother in sixteen years."

"We never stayed in one place for very long," Jim tells him. "Sometimes I picked the place. Tarsus was her choice."

Christopher swallows hard. "James, did Winona…? Was she…?" He fumbles the question exactly as he had during their first meeting, an Imperial officer interrogating a distrustful young man with a battle-weary look in his eyes. Jim had evaded his inquiry then.

"On Kodos's side?" Jim supplies, then looks away. "There were times when I thought so… but I was never one hundred percent certain." His gaze returns. "Does it matter?"

"Not to me," Pike answers, relieved.

Jim nods once before an odd smirk overtakes his expression. "So if anybody started this, sir, it's you."

Pike doesn't understand. "Excuse me?"

"You were different first." Jim lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, stating arrogantly, "I'm just following in the footsteps of my old man."

Pike narrows his eyes. "Considering the number of years you've had with your old man, one would think you would have learned to respect him."

Kirk barks out a laugh and, much to Pike's irritation, keeps on laughing.

Pike strides over to the computer, opening a comm channel. "Pike to Ambassador Suite."

Jim chokes all of a sudden. Pike ignores him.

"Sarek here," comes a deep voice. "Good evening, Captain Pike. How may I be of assistance?"

"How does a private dinner with the ship's captain sound, Ambassador? In the spirit of family, I believe you may find some of the information I can provide about your son's partner, shall we say, enlightening."

Jim appears right behind Christopher, poking at his shoulder. "You can't," he whispers.

Pike just smirks exactly as his son had.

No doubt Sarek hears the partner in question's protest but as a father himself likely appreciates the value of disciplining errant offspring via embarrassing stories. He responds, "Indeed, your offer already intrigues me, Captain. I look forward to the conversation."

"I'll make the arrangements. Pike out." Christopher turns around to meet his adversary, raising an eyebrow with the challenge of _you did this to yourself_ and _what makes you think you can stop me?_

Jim makes his assessment of Pike through narrowed eyes. "I have a Vulcan too, and I'm not afraid to use him."

"Is that supposed to be a threat, son?"

"Considering I could have been 'cuckolded', as Bones puts it, and Spock could actually be a spy, then it is."

"Since Spock picked you, the joke's on him," Pike rejoins.

Even puffed up, Jim fails miserably at pretending to be outraged. Both he and Pike only last a few seconds before the snickering starts.

Pike is the first to recover his good sense, reminding himself that adults—especially _captains_ —do not snicker. In control of himself again, he reaches out, placing a hand on his surbordinate's shoulder. "We done now?"

"Yeah," agrees Kirk. "We are."

After squeezing Kirk's shoulder, Pike retracts his hand and heads for the cabin's exit. Kirk naturally falls into step at his side.

As the pair crosses the threshold and turns right along the deck's main corridor, Jim muses, "About that Klingon problem we have…"

"Back up and start over," Christopher interrupts. "What problem, and why is it with the Klingons?"

"From the Proxima mission." Jim sounds much too innocent as they reach the turbolift's waiting area. "I forgot to mention one little detail. That Klingon we captured had knowledge of a new kind of technology called a cloaking device. They stole it during a skirmish in Romulan territory. When installed in a shielding system, it makes a ship invisible."

Pike couldn't feel more exasperated if he tried. "That's no small detail, Kirk." What else has his son conveniently forgotten to (or decided not to) tell him? "Why am I being informed about this now?"

"Being _different_ , sir, you would have felt compelled to report it." Jim faces him, his eyes are alight with anticipation. "Imagine the possibilities if we get our hands on that tech."

Oh, Pike can. What better way to make the _Enterprise_ , and thereby her future captains, the most feared—and best protected—ship in Starfleet?

"You want it?" Pike asks the man.

Kirk nods firmly. "Yes, sir."

"Then you'll have it," Pike decides, stepping into the empty lift. "Consider it a gift for saving my life."

The man follows him, beaming, and asks, "What else can I have?"

Pike rolls his eyes ceilingward as the lift engages.

Jim points out, "You could get into trouble again. And I'll save you. Then I could have another reward."

"No."

"I'm told finding trouble isn't all that difficult if you have a talent for it."

" _No_ , James."

"But—"

Pike wraps an arm around the man's shoulders, giving Kirk a light shake. "Stop harassing me, or it's you who will be in trouble."

The turbolift arrives, and the door whooshes open before Kirk can offer his comeback.

"Aw, look at that," drawls the ship's CMO sarcastically while his companion stares unabashedly into the lift. "Like two peas in a pod." McCoy prods the Vulcan beside him. "Told you Jim could handle his father."

"Shhhh!" Pike and Kirk hiss at the same time.

Pike takes his arm off Kirk. Kirk straightens his tunic and pulls back his shoulders.

"After you, Captain Pike," Jim says, adopting a formal tone.

"Thank you, Commander Kirk," Pike replies just as formally, exiting the turbolift first.

Jim's eyes are twinkling like his father's when he steps into the corridor.

Spock addresses McCoy. "Is it not the human custom to speak informally among family?"

"Normally," says the doctor, "but don't expect _them_ to act anywhere close to normal."

"Ah," murmurs the Vulcan. Then he turns to Pike and bows with the precision required of a man meeting his father-in-law for the first time. "Captain Pike."

Pike arches an eyebrow.

"I would like to apologize," Spock states. "I now realize my past attempts at familiarity with you, my bonded's sire, were likely misconstrued as insolence."

McCoy snorts and turns aside, his laughter poorly disguised as a coughing fit.

Pike grimaces. "Of course." Spock fighting with him was family-like behavior? How horrifying. Someone needs to teach the Vulcan that Kirk cannot be used to provide examples of appropriate human behavior. Otherwise the consequences don't bear thinking about.

The captain adds in what he hopes sounds like a soothing tone, "I forgive you."

"Spock, I think we need to have another lesson on human customs." The fondness in Jim's voice obliterates any pretense at admonishment.

Spock blinks. "That would be agreeable, Jim." Pausing, he recommends, "Dr. McCoy should join us as well. His bedside manner suggests he lacks proper knowledge of the etiquette required of a physician."

"What!" McCoy whips around. "Why, you pointy-eared bastard! I'm the kind of physician I am just to deal with boneheaded patients like you!"

With human-like smugness, Spock continues, "It seems that our situation is now resolved."

"Perfectly," agrees Jim, grinning from ear to ear.

McCoy sputters.

With the sudden inkling he ought to be anywhere else, Pike pushes ahead along the corridor at a pace that carries him around the corridor's bend before the other men can catch up. Although, when Pike pauses out of sight, realizing none of them have actually bothered to follow him, it occurs to Christopher that Kirk, Spock, and McCoy must find more lasting appeal in their private banter than in his heart palpitations caused by said banter. Not that that will likely stop the three men from terrorizing Pike every so often to just to test his self-control.

Smile forming, he moves off again, slowing his fast clip to a normal stroll.

A man has to give as much as he gets, he thinks pleasantly to himself. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy—most especially Kirk—probably do not realize that becoming a unit is tantamount to giving Pike permission to test their combined strength in all manner of devious (but of course formed from the good intentions of a parent and therefore excusable) ways.

Jim wants to tackle stealing Klingon technology? Pike has an operation in mind that will do the job quite nicely. Yes, nicely indeed.

Lighter in spirit than he has felt for most of his life, the captain grins, whistles a jaunty tune, and plots how to employ his most laudable talent: training the next generation.

 **The End**


End file.
